


The King And His Consort

by MissYuki1990



Series: Prompts [22]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Lord of the Rings - Fandom
Genre: AU, Elf!Harry, M/M, Mpreg, Slash, explicit content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 01:29:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2603570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissYuki1990/pseuds/MissYuki1990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“I belong to neither Moon nor Sun.” Aragorn took a step forward for each step Calén took back. “The Stars merely shine down upon me, while the Shadows conceal me from sight.”<br/>“Will the Shadows allow you to meet me again?” the older man sounded hopeful and Calén smirked as he stepped into the shadows of the forest. <br/>“Shadows are darkest when the light shines the brightest, Aragorn, son of Arathorn. We shall meet again...”</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In The Arms Of A King

Written on the request of **gojyo-lover20!**

**It took me a while to write this as a one-shot, because DAMN IT, it would make such a perfect multi-chapter story!!!!**

**Anyway! I hope you’ll like it!!!**

**Disclaimer:** I claim no rights to the characters of Harry Potter or the characters of The Lord of The Rings. They belong to their respective owners.

 **Warnings:** slash, OOC, angst

**cut**

Few nights have ever been this dark in fair Lothlórien. The stars have rarely glowed so dimly, and the winds were not often so calm, yet weary. The golden leaves whispered of pain and strife, and the grass murmured of a life filled with loss and betrayal.

Shadows were darker than ever in fair Lothlórien. The air was heavy, and the songs were quiet. No hawks flew over the treetops. No rabbits hopped in the high grass. No deer wandered the forest. No owls hooted in the canopies.

Something was wrong in fair Lothlórien, and the Lady of the Forest was awake.

She walked her realm alone in a frantic search. Her eyes sparkled like the Stars in the sky. Her skin glimmered like the rays of the Moon. Her hair shone like the Sun. Her footsteps were light, but hasty, for there was someone there whose heart cried for help. She walked along the riverbank listening to the whispers in the wind. Her heart ached in need to hurry, before it was too late.

A whispered prayer escaped her lips when her eyes caught sight of a small shape by the river. She hurried over to it and fell to her knees beside it, her hands trembling as she gathered it into her arms.

The body of the child trembled in her tender hold. Raven-black tresses fell around a pale face. Thin lips were parted and slow, pained breaths escaped between them. His thin frame was dressed in clothes far too big for him and far too thin for the cold nights of late winter.

Cradling the thin frame in her right arm, Lady Galadriel raised her left hand to tenderly caress his brow. She brushed his hair away from his face, and her heart danced in her chest when she saw that his ears were pointed like those of her Kin.

“What child is this?” she whispered as she cupped his cheek and caressed it with her thumb. Her mind was filled with memories that did not belong to her; memories of pain and loss, of betrayal and loneliness, of sorrow and death. She saw power and darkness, but she saw hope and love as well.

With a loving smile she gathered the child into her arms and stood to make her way back to Caras Galadhon. The child whimpered and curled towards her seeking her warmth, and Galadriel’s heart filled with love for the new son of Lothlórien.

“Fear naught, little one, for you are safe now. Your old life is over and your new life starts today,” she whispered into the wind, waving her power around the child. “You are no longer Harry Potter. From this day forward you shall be known as Calénandir of Lórien, and you shall suffer no more.”

**cut**

“Calén? Calén, manke naa lle?” (Calén, where are you?) An annoyed huff followed the question, and the Elf searching for Calén stopped in his tracks, fisted his hands on his hips and looked around with an annoyed frown. “Calén, if you do not appear before me right away, I shall tell Lady Galadriel that you have gone past the borders of Lórien again, and you know she will not be happy with you!” He felt a tickle of presence behind his back, and turned on his heel, his frown deepening when he found no one standing behind him. “Ca…” he turned again and his breath caught in his throat when he found the one he has been looking for leaning against a tree with arms crossed over his chest, looking at him with a raised eyebrow and amusement shining in incredible green eyes.

“You are a long way from your post, Haldir,” Calén commented and pushed himself away from the tree. “What is the emergency?”

Haldir frowned as his eyes darted over Calén’s lithe form searching for any wounds or imperfections. “What have we told you about disappearing like this? It is not safe for you to wander the woods alone.”

Calén sighed and shook his head as though he was tired of having the same argument. “I am no longer a child, Haldir. Everyone else can wander as far as they want, and I am the only one who is not allowed to walk further than a mile from Caras Galadhon,” he spoke as he turned on his heel and started to walk back down the path leading to the city.

Haldir caught up with him and glanced at his young companion before he sighed and looked down the path. “We only wish to protect you, Calén. Ever since our Lady…”

“Haldir, I know,” Calén interrupted him, and without the need to see, Haldir knew that the eyes of his young companion have darkened with memories of his past life. “I remember everything, you know? It is not that I am ungrateful, or that I do not love you all, but I need my freedom. I cannot remain trapped within the walls of my room until the end of all days.”

“You don’t need to remain _trapped inside your room_ until the end of all days,” Haldir answered and Calén looked at him from under messy bangs. “Only until there is no evil in the world.”

Calén groaned and rolled his eyes at the teasing smirk on Haldir’s face, only to yelp when Haldir pushed him lightly making him stumble.

“It appears that I am bound never to see the world outside of the forest then,” Calén grumbled making Haldir sigh.

“We only wish to protect you, little one.” Haldir didn’t expect Calén to move closer and slip under his arm at those words. Never the less, Haldir smiled and wrapped his right arm around Calén’s shoulders, keeping the young Elf close to himself.

It has been over 25 years since Galadriel found Calén by the riverbank. Calén grew up into a beautiful young Elf. His raven-black hair fell in a thick braid to his waist, wild tresses falling into his oval, pale face accenting out-worldly emerald eyes. His body looked deceivingly frail, but his formfitting, dark green tunic and brown leggings tucked into knee high boots showed off a firm body, formed by hours of running through the forest of Lórien, riding horses, and practicing sword-arts and archery. Even though he was the youngest Elf in Lothlórien, he was already among the best fighters they had, even though there was not a single aggressive bone in his body.

Calén was a kind, loving creature that preferred spending his days walking through the forest, playing with animals and listening to the wind singing through the golden leaves, or sitting in the shade with a good book in his hands. He loved quiet nights when he would sit with Galadriel and Celeborn, either listening to Galadriel’s songs or singing with her. Even though he could take care of himself, his kind nature made him stir away from conflict, and in turn made everyone around him feel extreme protectiveness. Whoever met him loved him at first glance. Whoever talked to him fell in love with his mind and heart. Calénandir was the heart of Lothlórien, and there was no one there who would say otherwise.

“Haldir?! Calén?!”

The two parted and turned around when someone called out to them, and Calén’s face brightened instantly.

“Rumil! Orophin! It has been a while!” He ran towards the two Elves, Haldir’s brothers, and pulled them both into a hug that made the two laugh brightly.

“You have grown even more beautiful, Calén! Soon enough you shall put all the beauty of Lothlórien to shame,” Rumil teased the raven-haired Elf while his younger brother grinned down at Calén.

“I think he already has, Rumil! The ladies of Lothlórien should be watchful, for there is no greater beauty than that of Calén in all of Lórien,” Orophin said making Calén blush furiously.

“There is no beauty greater than that of Lady Galadriel,” he answered their teasing, and Rumil and Orophin exchanged grins.

“I am afraid the Lady would disagree with you, little one.” Haldir joined them and Calén rolled his eyes with an exasperated sigh.

“Never mind that; how are you? Is everything alright?” the youngest among them asked as they started on their way again joined by Rumil and Orophin.

“Everything is alright, little one,” Orophin assured him. “As a matter of fact, Rumil and I talked about asking Lady Galadriel if she would allow us to take you with us next time we set out to make rounds around our borders.”

“You would?” Calén cried out happily while Haldir huffed and shook his head.

“Calén! You had us worried!”

Said young Elf turned on his heel only to find himself enveloped in a tight embrace within the arms of Lady Arwen. Haldir, Rumil and Orophin exchanged smirks when they saw Calén pale after he had seen the worry which shone in Arwen’s tear-filled eyes.

“Do not wander off like that again while I am alone with you. My heart cannot stand the worry.”

“I am sorry, Arwen,” Calén apologized honestly and hugged her back tightly, “I merely wanted to take a walk, and slipped away while you talked with Giladin and Tinuvem. I promise it will not happen again.”

Arwen smiled at him lovingly and kissed his forehead before she let go of him. “I am not angry with you, little one. I was merely worried.” Calén smiled at her and nodded. “Come on now. Dinner will start after Lady Galadriel sees to a man that arrived earlier. It appears that he is a traveler and that he has asked to stay here for a few days.”

“You don’t know who he is?” Calén asked and Arwen shook her head.

“I hadn’t seen him, but if our Lady allowed him to stay it must mean he is a good man.”

Calén nodded in agreement.

As they entered Caras Galadhon, they stopped to bid Haldir farewell since he had to return to his post. Rumil and Orophin parted from Calén and Arwen soon after, making their way to Lord Celeborn’s chambers to inform him of their findings.

Calén and Arwen made their way side by side to the highest levels of Caras Galadhon where their chambers were. They passed many Elves on their way, and Arwen could not help but smile when she saw how loved Calén was. She has heard the story of how Calén came to live in Lothlórien from Lady Galadriel when she arrived to spend some time with her Grandmother. Calén was still an Elfling at that time, barely 17 summers old, but when Arwen looked into his eyes, she saw years of suffering and pain.

She learned about his past life from Lady Galadriel, and came to love him even more. Her stay in Lothlórien was supposed to last for a few years, and yet she remained longer if for no other reason than to watch over Calén. She grew to love him as though he was her own child, and Calén loved her just as much.

Even though his past life was marked by pain and loss, his heart was so full of kindness and love that sometimes it was hard to believe such a creature existed. There was not a soul in Lothlórien that wouldn’t die to protect the young Elf with hair the color of the starless sky, and eyes which shone like moon-kissed emeralds.

As they reached Calén’s rooms Arwen couldn’t help but laugh lightly when Calén tried to hide a yawn.

“Maybe you should go straight to bed, little one, otherwise you might fall asleep at the table.”

Calén smiled at her sleepily and nodded. “I might,” he agreed and moved in to hug Arwen lovingly. “I shall see you in the morning, Arwen. Have a blessed night.”

“Rest well, little one, and dream only of beautiful things,” Arwen said as she kissed his forehead and hugged him tightly to her chest.

After she left, Calén entered his chambers. With a tired sigh, he made his way over to a basin to wash his face and hands. He changed into a comfortable pair of light pants and a big, white, long-sleeved shirt which danced around his small frame. With eyes heavily lidded and shoulders hunched in exhaustion, he walked over to his soft bed and crawled under the velvety sheets.

Before he fell asleep, his thoughts strayed to the stranger that arrived to Lórien, and his heart filled with hope of hearing new stories about the world he had yet to see.

**cut**

Drowsy emerald eyes opened, and a frown of confusion marred beautiful features as Calén woke up. A light, warm breeze danced through the window above his bed, caressing his warm cheeks, and ruffling his hair which was falling out of the braid.

He sat up and looked around in confusion, wondering what woke him up in the middle of the night. A whisper in the wind made him get out of his warm bed, and he halted when a shape materialized in the light of the moon breaking through the windows.

It was a silver stag, and Calén’s heart played in his chest when it bowed its head at him.

“Prongs?” he whispered. The stag hit the floor with his front hooves, threw its head back and galloped soundlessly out of Calén’s room. “Wait!”

Without giving it a thought, Calén ran after the stag, his bare feet hardly making a sound as he ran down many pathways of Caras Galadhon in hot pursuit.

He reached ground level, breathing hard with strain, and looked around in frantic search of the silver stag. Moonlight that broke through the thick branches of the Mallorn trees painted silvery circles on the green grass, and Calén gasped when he saw the stag glimmer in one of such rays.

It huffed at Calén and turned around, strutting slowly down a path covered in grass, and Calén followed after it at a slower pace.

He rarely walked this path opting for higher grounds of Caras Galadhon and the riverbank of Anduin. It seemed to him that many shadows lingered there, and he felt as though something was crawling up and down his skin. A chill settled around him and he wrapped his arms around himself to preserve some warmth. He licked his suddenly dry lips in anticipation.

He didn’t know how long he walked or how far he went. He found himself standing on the edge of a small clearing covered in small, light blue flowers. Moonlight shone upon it, bathing it in its mercury glow, and in the middle of the clearing stood the stag, looking almost corporeal.

With hesitant footsteps, Calén made his way towards the stag.

It didn’t move. It just observed Calén with its pale gaze, its majestic form shining like the moon and the stars.

Calén stopped a foot in front of the stag with his hands clasped on his chest, not knowing what to do. The stag huffed and slowly leaned its head forward.

Calén’s eyes widened in wonder when the stag nudged his hands as though asking for Calén to pat him.

The young Elf’s lips tilted into a smile, and he slowly parted his hands to take a gentle hold of the stag’s head. He took a small step closer as he caressed the stag between its big eyes.

It was as tall as Calén, which was no difficult feat. Its body was muscled and strong, making Calén think that the stag wouldn’t even feel the young Elf’s slight weight if it ever allowed Calén to mount him.

“I thought I would never see you again, Prongs,” he whispered tenderly and the stag huffed. “I no longer have magic. I am not Harry Potter anymore, although the memories are still here.” The stag moved even closer and threw its head over Calén’s shoulder in a hug. Incredible warmth enveloped Calén, and peace settled in his heart. “I am happy. I am happier than I’ve ever thought I would be - ever thought I _could_ be.”

The stag moved back and licked Calén’s right cheek, making the young Elf laugh merrily.

“So you just came to check up on me?” he asked and Prongs huffed and nodded his big head. Calén tilted his head to the side with a loving smile. “Now you know that I am happy. Now you know that I am alright. Please, don’t worry about me anymore. Tell mother not to worry either. I have found my happiness, no matter how short it could last.”

Prongs stared deep in Calén’s eyes.

In the next moment, Prongs moved back and turned his head to the side, focusing on a tall form that stood on the edge of the clearing.

Reflexively, Calén moved to stand behind Prongs, never taking his eyes off of the figure shrouded in shadows.

“Il’ gorge! Amin il’ cronuva lle.” (Fear not! I will not harm you.)

The man stepped out of the shadows, and Calén swallowed with slight difficulties. His eyes widened when Prongs bowed his head and stepped around Calén. He nudged him with its muzzle, and Calén stumbled forward.

“I am sorry to have frightened you.”

Calén looked at the man who stopped several feet in front of him.

He looked like a traveler that has seen many misfortunes, and has now finally come to a place in which he could rest for a short while. Brown hair fell to strong, proud shoulders, what little skin could be seen was tanned from spending a lot of time on the road, and heavy clothes did nothing to hide a tall, strong physic. He carried himself with the awareness of a warrior, and his gray eyes shone with knowledge and love for everything good in this world. He looked rough and wary, and yet Calén could see gentleness in the man’s gaze.

“You have startled me,” Calén finally spoke up, and the man placed his right hand on his chest and bowed at him.

“I apologize. It was not my intention. I merely went for a walk since I couldn’t sleep, and stumbled upon you in my wanderings.”

Calén nodded at him only to yelp when Prongs nudged his back again. “What are you doing?” Prongs huffed and nodded his head towards the man as though he wanted to say something, but for the life of him Calén couldn’t understand. “You are acting strange,” He muttered.

“It is a peculiar friend you have there.”

Calén looked at the man and his right eyebrow twitched up a bit. “I would not call him a friend,” he said and Prongs huffed as though he was annoyed. The man chuckled and slowly approached them.

Calén was surprised when Prongs walked past him to stop right in front of the stranger who raised his right hand with no hesitance and rubbed Prongs between his antlers. Prongs turned his head towards Calén and huffed as though to say ‘See? He is not a threat’, and Calén sighed and shook his head with a small smile full of fondness.

“He appears to like you,” he commented and the man chuckled as he looked at Calén.

From standing so close to the man, Calén was made aware of his small stature. Compared to the wanderer, he seemed more like a child than a grown man. Those gray eyes showed nothing but kindness, and Calén managed to let go of the initial wariness which overtook his heart at first instance, and as a smile tugged on the man’s bearded face, Calén found himself seeing the man’s kind heart clearly. “If I may ask for your name?” he asked as he approached the man, placing his left hand on Prongs’ back.

“You may call me Aragorn.”

Calén nodded at him.

“And you may call me Calén.”

Aragorn’s lips tilted up into a small smile. “So you are Calénandir. I have heard a lot of stories about you from Elladan and Elrohir,” he said and Calén’s eyes widened.

“You have met them? Tell me, are they well? I haven’t seen nor heard of them in several years!”

“They are well. Their sister, Arwen Undomiel, resides here in Lothlórien, if I am not mistaken.”

“She does. Have you not seen her during dinner?”

Aragorn shook his head and continued to pat Prongs’ head after some prompting from the stag. “I have traveled without rest for several days, so I went straight to bed. I hadn’t been to dinner.”

“Neither have I,” Calén nodded. In that moment, Prongs huffed and turned to nudge Calén’s chest with its head. “Must you go already?” he asked mournfully, and Prongs licked Calén’s cheek comfortingly. Calén smiled and hugged the stag around its neck tightly. “Be blessed,” he whispered as he let go and took a step back.

Prongs huffed and strutted away, fading into the moonlight.

Calén looked at Aragorn and laughed when he saw the expression of shocked amazement on the older man’s face. “That look doesn’t suit you, Aragorn,” he teased and the man looked at him.

“What magic was that?” Aragorn asked in wonder and Calén chuckled before he looked up at the moon with a small, nostalgic smile.

“Just the Moon creating visions in the silence of the night,” He answered cryptically and Aragorn looked at the Elf’s beautiful face.

“Are you a vision as well?” he asked and Calén smiled at Aragorn with eyes full of mischievousness.

“A vision of the night disappears once the Sun takes the Moon’s place,” he teased and Aragorn chuckled, taking a step closer to Calén.

“Will you disappear once the Sun comes out?” he asked, and the atmosphere suddenly grew heavy making it hard to breathe.

The only thing Calén could see was Aragorn’s gray eyes; like stormy skies right before rain. The urge to run away overlapped with the need to stay, and Calén’s heart beat in his chest as though it wanted to jump right out. “The Moon and the Sun are but two sides of the same coin and one but reveals what the other conceals.”

Aragorn chuckled and his almost overbearing presence enveloped Calén like a heavy, warm cape. “You have not answered my question.” The mischievousness which shone in Aragorn’s eyes sparked something within Calén’s heart, but instead of letting go of the bubbling laugh which threatened to roll off of his lips, Calén merely smiled and took a step back to Aragorn’s obvious surprise.

“I belong to neither Moon nor Sun.” Aragorn took a step forward for each step Calén took back. “The Stars merely shine down upon me, while the Shadows conceal me from sight.”

“Will the Shadows allow you to meet me again?” the older man sounded hopeful and Calén smirked as he stepped into the shadows of the forest.

“Shadows are darkest when the light shines the brightest, Aragorn, son of Arathorn. We shall meet again,” with that Calén turned on his heel and broke into a run too fast for Aragorn to follow.

The wind carried his bubbling laugh, and his eyes shone with excitement as he ran towards Caras Galadhon.

Once safe inside his chambers, Calén threw himself on his bed, a huge, happy grin stretching his lips. The moon glimmered down at him happily, caressing his heated cheeks. His heart beat fast in excitement, and his mind was full of thoughts of gray eyes, mysterious as the raging sea, yet warm as a burning fire.

 _We shall meet again, Aragorn,_ he thought as sleep claimed him. _We shall meet again._

**cut**

_Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?_   
_Thou art more lovely and more temperate:_   
_Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,_   
_And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:_

_Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,_   
_And often is his gold complexion dimmed,_   
_And every fair from fair sometime declines,_   
_By chance, or nature’s changing course untrimmed:_

_But thy eternal summer shall not fade,_   
_nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,_   
_Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,_   
_When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st,_

_So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,_   
_So long lives this, and this gives life to thee._

_-William Shakespeare, Sonnet XVIII_

**cut**

“So you do belong to the Moon rather than the Sun.”

An amused chuckle rolled off of Calén’s lips as he turned around to face Aragorn. He sat in the middle of the same meadow they’ve met in last night with the Moon shining down upon him.

Calén was busying himself with picking the flowers that grew there before Aragorn appeared. Apparently such flowers grew only in this meadow for Calén spent the whole day wondering around Caras Galadhon in search for them.

“Or is it that you belong to the Earth rather than the Heavens.” Aragorn approached Calén slowly and without a question took a seat beside the Elf.

“Do you know which flower this is?” Calén asked, ignoring Aragorn’s question.

The older man chuckled knowingly and looked at the few flowers Calén held gently in his hand. “Forget-me-nots,” Aragorn answered and took one of the flowers from Calén’s hand, “they are called Forget-me-nots.”

Calén tilted his head to the side in wonder, and his eyes widened when Aragorn reached up and gently tucked the stem covered in small, delicate flowers in Calén’s hair. The small, blue petals contrasted sharply with Calén’s dark hair, and shone like diamonds in the moonlight.

“Have you never seen them before?” Aragorn looked in Calén’s eyes and the young Elf’s tongue darted out to wet suddenly dry lips.

“It appears that they grow only in this meadow. I have never seen them anywhere else in Lothlórien.”

“I was told that you’ve never traveled out of Caras Galadhon,” Aragorn said and Calén nodded with a sigh as he looked down and tenderly plucked a few more stems.

“I was never outside of Lothlórien. I have never ventured more than several miles away from Caras Galadhon. Ever since Lady Galadriel found me on the bank of Anduin, I’ve never left. I have never seen the mountains. I have never seen the vast fields of Rohan or the quick rapids of Celebrant. I have never seen the sea.”

Calén stared into the distance, eyes full of wistful imaginings, and Aragorn stared at him in quiet amazement and wonder.

“I have seen them.” Calén looked at Aragorn when the man spoke in a voice hardly louder than a whisper. “I have seen the snowy tops of Caradhras. I have walked the hidden passages of Dunland. I have traveled the vast fields of Rohan, and the high planes of Ered Nimrais. I’ve heard the songs sung by the rapids of Celebrant and the thundering roars of the Falls of Rauros. And I have seen the sea.”

Calén listened to every word which rolled off of Aragorn’s lips as though they were sacred, and stared at Aragorn with eyes wide with wonder. “Tell me about them,” he whispered, eyes glimmering like starlight. “Tell me about the rivers, the hills, and the planes you’ve seen. Tell me about the sea.”

A small smile tugged on Aragorn’s lips and he nodded.

“I shall.”

**cut**

“I didn’t know you could sing.”

Calén opened his eyes and found Aragorn standing several feet away from him. Calén finished the song he was singing several minutes ago, so he was surprised that Aragorn took a while to make his presence known.

“There are a lot of things you do not know about me, Aragorn,” Calén said, and the Dúnedain nodded in acknowledgment before he approached Calén and took a seat beside him, leaning back on the same tree Calén was resting against.

“I’ve heard from Lady Galadriel that you’ve spent your day in the Great Library,” Aragorn commented and Calén laughed quietly, nodding in confirmation.

“I’ve recalled stories of your travels and decided to study the maps. I have tried to imagine everything you have seen, but I cannot get the full picture.”

Aragorn studied Calén for a few long moments while the Elf stared at the star covered sky.

“Would you go with me?”

“What?”

The Elf looked at Aragorn breathless and wide-eyed. The smile tilting Aragorn’s lips was full of fondness as he looked Calén straight in the eyes.

“You and I both know that there is a Shadow growing in the East, but all Shadows must pass. Every darkness meets its end. Once this Darkness is gone - once the Shadow has passed - if I were to ask you to come with me, would you go?” Calén’s breath hitched in his throat, and his heart beat like that of a rabbit. “We could go as far as the icy tips of Ered Luin, all the way to the Western Sea. We could travel the green fields and forests of the Shire, and the fertile planes of Minhiriath. I could take you to see Rivendell, and the high tips of the Misty Mountains. We could travel together down the flow of Anduin, and ride through the fields of Rohan, visit the Sea of Rhûn or even watch the Sun set on the horizon with nothing but the blue sea spreading in front of us on the sandy shores of Andrast.”

Calén’s eyes were full of something Aragorn couldn’t name.

A warm breeze danced around them, singing its loving son to their hearts. The Moon shone bright upon them as though giving them its blessing, and the ground vibrated beneath them, as though it was engraving their words into itself.

“Would you go with me, Calénandir?”

Said Elf swallowed although his mouth was dry. His whole body was shaking with something he couldn’t name, and every thought came to a stop when Aragorn raised his right hand and gently cupped Calén’s left cheek. He caressed it with his thumb as he stared deep in Calén’s eyes as though the answer to his question was in them.

“Would you go with me?”

“I would,” Calén murmured and Aragorn let go of the breath he was unconsciously holding. “I would follow you.”

**cut**

“You are leaving tomorrow.”

This time it was Calén that surprised Aragorn finding the Ranger sitting by that same tree that stood as a reminder of the promise they’ve made the night before.

“I must return to my people,” Aragorn said and Calén let go of a heavy sigh.

He looked away from Aragorn with sadness in his whole stance, and the Dúnedain stood up to join Calén’s side. With gentle hands he cupped Calén’s face and raised his head to meet those viridian depths. Aragorn caressed pale cheeks with his thumbs, watching Calén as though he wanted to engrave every line of the Elf’s face in his memory.

“The Shadow is growing,” Aragorn whispered, feeling Calén’s small hands take a hold of his forearms. “Many battles lie ahead, many dangers and shifting tides. A war is on the horizon and many years will pass before peace will reign over these lands. But I promise to you, Calénandir, that I shall fulfill my oath. When the Shadow is gone, I shall make you mine.”

A single crystalline tear trailed down Calén’s cheek. “Then you must promise me that you will evade death until our next meeting, Aragorn, for there I will not be able to follow you,” Calén’s voice wavered as sorrow settled in his heart, and Aragorn swallowed difficultly as he leaned forward to rest his forehead on Calén’s.

“And you must promise to wait for me, for no matter where my road takes me I swear to always return to you.”

“I promise,” Calén whispered as tears trailed down his cheeks. “For as long as there is still light and hope in this world I will wait for your safe return.”

And in that place, which would later be known as the Meadow of Promises, Aragorn and Calén sealed their oath with a loving kiss, with the Moon as their witness.

But neither knew that many years would pass before they would meet again.

In the early morning, as Aragorn rode on his steed towards the gates of Caras Galadhon, making his way north, he turned to glance back one last time to seal Calén’s small form standing beside Galadriel in his memory.

And with a heavy heart Aragorn started on his journey that would lead him through many perils.

**cut**

_How heavy do I journey on the way,_   
_When what I seek, my weary travel’s end,_   
_Doth teach that ease and that repose to say,_   
_’Thus far the miles are measured from thy friend!’_

_The beast that bears me, tired with my woe,_   
_Plods dully on, to bear that weight in me,_   
_As if by some instinct the wretch did know_   
_His rider lov’d not speed being made from thee._

_The bloody spur cannot provoke him on,_   
_That sometimes anger thrusts into his hide,_   
_Which heavily he answers with a groan,_   
_More sharp to me than spurring to his side;_

_For that same groan doth put this in my mind,_   
_My grief lies onward, and my joy behind._

_\- William Shakespeare, Sonnet L_

**cut**

“Calén, feitha!!” (Calén, wait!!)

“Later, Orophin!!” Raven black hair snapped in the wind as Calén ran down the pathways of Caras Galadhon. It appeared more that he was flying than actually running. He avoided other Elves expertly, rushing towards his destination and the one man he hasn’t seen in years.

He stumbled to a stop, breathing hard and fast, and grabbed a hold of a tree he stopped beside. He didn’t need to utter a word, because the moment he stopped, the man who was unpacking his bags in a small camp he had made on the ground level of Caras Galadhon stood up to turn around and face him.

Gray eyes met emerald, and time seemed to linger on. Calén could do nothing but rejoice in his heart, for the man he longed to see for over two decades was standing in front of him alive and well, and seemingly untouched by time.

“Aragorn?” he breathed out and took a small step forward.

Said man could do nothing but stare in wonder at the Elf standing in front of him. Last time Aragorn had laid eyes on Calén, even though the Elf was well in his thirtieth summer, Calén still had a few childlike qualities to his face and stature. Standing in front of the Ranger was not a child, but a man, a beautiful, strong man.

Calén’s face was oval and surrounded by wild tresses of hair falling out of a thick braid. Dark green clothes hugged a strong, leanly muscled frame, shielding the Elf from the chill of early winter. Emerald eyes shone with intelligence and wisdom, and his whole existence breathed happiness.

“Aragorn!” The Elf broke into a run just as Aragorn moved forward, and they met in a kiss that could have shaken the very foundations of the earth with the strength of its passion.

When they parted, Aragorn took a gentle hold of Calén’s face, taking in every change he could find. Tears were streaming down perfect cheeks, tears of relief and happiness, and words of joy flowed down thin, soft lips like water whispering over rocks. “You are alive! You’re here! You’re really here!”

“I’m here, Calén. I’m here,” Aragorn spoke calmingly, even though he was just as overtaken by joy, and happiness, and love as Calén was.

Calén threw his arms around Aragorn’s shoulders and the Dúnedain wrapped his around Calén’s thin waist. Aragorn squeezed his eyes tightly shut trying to stop the trembling of his body, feeling Calén shivering.

“I have waited for you, Aragorn. I have waited just like I promised. I can feel the Shadow growing every day, and every day I pray that it would be the one you’d find your way back to me. When I’ve heard that there would be a meeting in Rivendell I knew that there was a chance you would come.”

“And now I am here.” They parted and Aragorn looked down at Calén while the Elf fisted his hands on Aragorn’s chest as though he was afraid that if he didn’t hold on Aragorn would disappear. “And you are even more beautiful than I remember.”

The smile Calén gifted him with made Aragorn’s heart soar, and for the first time in decades Aragorn felt at peace, even though the Darkness was growing.

“You haven’t changed at all,” Calén whispered as he reached up to cup Aragorn’s face between shivering hands. He caressed beard covered cheeks with his thumbs, smiling at the feeling of it tickling his skin. He moved up and pulled Aragorn into a kiss, sighing when Aragorn tightened his hold on him. Calén laughed lightly as he pulled back, completely ignoring the shivers wrecking his body.

That didn’t mean Aragorn could ignore them as well. “You are cold,” he murmured as he rubbed Calén’s back.

“I ran all the way here from Lady Galadriel’s chambers,” Calén admitted and Aragorn frowned in worry.

“Come. It is warmer by the fire,” Aragorn said as he led Calén over to the small camp he set up and pulled the Elf down before he took a seat behind Calén with his legs on either side of the smaller man, hugging the Elf close to his chest.

Calén sighed and nuzzled back into Aragorn’s embrace, enjoying the warmth which enveloped him and the peace which settled over his mind and heart. “How soon must you be on your way?” Calén asked after a few long moments and Aragorn let go of a grave sigh.

“No later than tomorrow night. I must meet up with Gandalf in the Shire.”

Calén hummed sadly and pushed back into Aragorn’s embrace before he tilted his head back to rest it on Aragorn’s left shoulder. Aragorn rested his head on Calén’s forehead and allowed his eyes to slip closed.

He should have made his way straight for the Shire, but he couldn’t find a single bone in his body that would feel sorry for granting himself this opportunity to hold Calén in his arms for what just might be the last time in his life.

There was a war brewing on the horizon, and nothing guaranteed that Aragorn would make it out of it. No matter how much he hated thinking about it, Aragorn knew that there was a chance he wouldn’t survive, that he wouldn’t be able to fulfill his promise to Calén. It pained him more than anything ever did, and left a bitter taste on his tongue, one nothing could erase.

“Tell me a story, Aragorn,” Calén whispered. “Tell me of your journeys - of the sights you have seen and people you’ve met. Tell me about the mountains and the fields, and about the sea.”

Aragorn swallowed difficultly.

Of course Calén would know Aragorn’s plight. Just because Calén has never left Lórien didn’t mean that he was unaware of what was going on. There was no escape from the Darkness.

“On the very top of Caradhras the freshly fallen snow looks like diamond-dust.” Calén closed his eyes as Aragorn’s suiting baritone washed over him. “It creaks under your feet and feels like fine dust in your hands how dry and pure it is. The air smells different, and standing on top of it, you feel as though you are standing on top of the world…”

**cut**

“Aragorn, I must speak to you.”

Said man halted in his way towards his horse where Calén stood with Haldir, talking about one thing or another. He turned around to face Lady Galadriel and bowed his head at her in respect.

“Is there something wrong, my Lady?” he asked and Galadriel looked over Aragorn’s shoulder, shooting a pointed glance in Calén’s direction.

“It is about Calén,” she said and looked deep into his eyes. “You have noticed it as well. I know you have.”

Aragorn gulped and licked his lips as he fisted his hands by his sides.

Of course he had noticed. Someone who didn’t know what to look for wouldn’t have seen, but Aragorn had lived through too much and had seen so many things that there was no way he would have missed it.

“A Shadow has appeared in his eyes and his skin is slowly losing color. His body is slowly losing warmth. You know what I am talking about.”

Aragorn had to try hard to resist the urge to look away from Galadriel’s eyes.

“He had made the choice before he even knew he had one. He chose you; he chose to become yours, and you know what that means.”

“He is mortal,” Aragorn pressed out over the lump of fear that suddenly appeared in his throat.

“As the Shadow grows stronger his strength wanes. As Sauron’s power grows, Calén’s life diminishes. Keep that in mind as you embark on your journey, for if you fail, this might be the last time you see him,” with that Galadriel bid him farewell and left.

Aragorn turned around and his heart ached painfully when he saw Calén laugh at something Haldir told him. He looked in Aragorn’s direction and their eyes met. Calén’s lips tilted into a small smile, although there was a knowing gleam in his eyes.

With a heavy heart Aragorn walked over to them. He nodded at Haldir before the tall Elf left, and Aragorn remained alone with his raven haired love.

“Calén…”

“I have made my choice, Aragorn.” Calén looked up at him and smiled. “Whether by Shadow or by Time, I would have died either way. There is no Ship that can carry me out of this world.” He stood right it front of Aragorn, raised his hands, cupped bearded cheeks between them, and pulled Aragorn down into a kiss. “You are Aragorn, son of Arathorn; the heir of Isildur.” He spoke firmly, looking deep into Aragorn’s eyes. “You will face the same trial and you will prevail, and you will come back to me to fulfill your oath.” A beautiful smile covered Calén’s lips, and Aragorn felt as though some of his worries melted away. “I still wish to see the vast expense of the sea fading into the sky as the sun sets in the West.”

Aragorn licked his dry lips and swallowed, fighting back tears which wanted to fill his eyes.

“And you will, Calén. You will.”

**cut**

_Oh, I have sown my love so wide_   
_That he will find it everywhere;_   
_It will awake him in the night,_   
_It will enfold him in the air._

_I set my shadow in his sight_   
_And I have winged it with desire,_   
_That it may be a cloud by day,_   
_And in the night a shaft of fire._

_-Sara Teasdale, ‘After Parting’_

**cut**

Not minding if the Fellowship has settled, not thinking about anything that supposedly _should_ have mattered more, Aragorn ran up the paths of Caras Galadhon with only one thought in mind - Calén.

He couldn’t hear the song of mourning echoing through the night. He didn’t feel the cold breeze nipping at his face. He could hardly see the Elves he was passing.

It felt like it took an eternity to reach the highest chambers, but once he was there he halted and froze, feeling like someone threw a bucket of cold water into his face.

What would he find on the other side of that door?

He fisted his hands by his sides as his heart beat madly in his chest. He felt like acid was gathering in his throat and something was trying to claw its way out of his stomach. He licked his lips and took a shaky step forward, fearing his knees would give up on him. With a shivering hand he pushed the door open only to stop again as a wave of relief washed over him.

Kneeling beside the bed was Calén. He was resting his elbows on the edge of the bed, his head was bowed and his forehead rested on his hands clasped in a prayer.

Aragorn felt like his knees would give up on him. He could see that Calén was thinner than before. His small frame was already weaker, his skin was paler and there was a weight on those shoulders that wasn’t there before.

A gasp startled him and Calén raised his head. His eyes widened and his lips parted in shock, and even in the weakened state, even with shadows in those emerald depths, Calén was still the most beautiful creature Aragorn has ever seen.

“Aragorn!” Calén breathed out brokenly as he stood on shaky legs and took a small step towards the Dúnedain, and Aragorn hurried forward to catch the Elf when he started to fall.

They fell on the floor, wrapped in each others arms, Aragorn holding Calén close to his chest and the Elf clinging to Aragorn as though the Ranger was his life-line. “You’re alive. You’re well,” Calén whispered, overwhelmed by relief, and Aragorn buried his face in Calén’s hair, breathing in the scent of grass and forget-me-nots which seemed to linger wherever Calén was.

“I am sorry, little one. I am so sorry,” Aragorn pressed out through his teeth as he hugged Calén as tightly as he could without hurting the Elf. He felt Calén push against his chest and moved back hesitatingly before he looked down in Calén’s eyes. Aragorn cupped the Elf’s face within his hands, caressed the seams of thin lips with his thumbs, cut each and every line of the Elf’s face into his memory all over again, whispering apologies and words of love and reassurance with every breath he took.

They lost Gandalf just a few days ago, and for those few long days the only thing on Aragorn’s mind was Calén. He had pushed the Fellowship faster than he maybe should have, all in an attempt to reach Lórien as fast as they could, because he wouldn’t be able to handle another moment without seeing that Calén was still alive, that he was still waiting for him.

“I am here, Aragorn,” Calén whispered lovingly. “I am here.”

“I have feared I would not find you,” Aragorn answered brokenly. “I have feared you would be gone. I feared that I have lost you.”

Calén’s lips stretched into a small, weak smile. “I have made a promise to wait for you, Aragorn. No matter how long it will take, I will always wait for you.”

Without a thought Aragorn leaned in and kissed the beautiful creature. Calén fisted his hands on Aragorn’s chest, holding on for dear life as the other man kissed him in a way he has never been kissed before, not in this life or in his past one.

It was a kiss so full of love and desperation, overflowing with devotion and passion; breathing with adoration. Aragorn’s arms wrapped themselves around Calén’s waist and held on as though they would never let go.

Calén failed to notice when Aragorn gathered him in strong arms and stood up to carry Calén over to the bed.

When he was lying under Aragorn, the Dúnedain moved back a little and looked down in his eyes.

There were no words his could think of to say. The future was shrouded in shadows, and the only thing they had was that moment in time.

“I will always wait for you, Aragorn,” Calén whispered as the older man leaned down to kiss him again.

_I will always wait for you._

**cut**

5 days passed since the Fellowship left Lothlórien down Anduin. The air was heavy. The shadows grew darker with each passing day.

Alone in his room, Calén looked out the window facing East. His gaze was distant, as though he wasn’t really seeing anything. His heart was heavy. Even though he wore several pieces of clothing, Calén couldn’t warm his cold body. Even though the sun shone brightly, it seemed as though its warmth wasn’t reaching him. The only thing on his mind was Aragorn, and the Darkness he was riding towards.

 _Be safe, Elessar_ , he thought as his eyes slipped closed. _Be safe_.

He was woken from his musings when the door opened, and when he raised his head he saw Arwen standing there with eyes full of worry and fear.

“Oh, Valar!” she cried out fearfully and rushed over to Calén’s side, falling to her knees in front of him. “What happened to you?” her voice wavered as she took his hands between her own, shivering at the coldness of his skin. She looked up at his face only to find him smiling almost peacefully at her.

“I have made my choice, Arwen,” he said and a single tear trailed down Arwen’s pale cheek. “How come you are here? I thought you would remain in Rivendell with your father.”

“My brothers ride with the Dúnedain to aid Aragorn. I rode with them to come here because father told me of your plight. I hadn’t thought it had come this far.” Calén bowed his head and sighed. “Calén…”

“I have made peace with it, Arwen,” he interrupted her as he raised his head and looked out the window. “I have made peace with it the moment I had realized what was going on with me.” His bottom lip quivered even though he was smiling. “Did - Did Lady Galadriel ever tell you how I came to be in this world?” Arwen shook her head and Calén chuckled darkly. “I was a Wizard in my past life. I basically fought to survive ever since the day I started to think, one way or another. Either I was fighting to keep my sanity while staying with my relatives who hated me, or I was literally fighting to stay alive because a madman was after me. And finally, when it was all over, when _he_ was gone and when I could finally start a life of my own, my friends turned their backs on me. When they have realized that I have become a master of the most powerful items in that world, they have betrayed me out of fear. And I have had enough. I had wanted to die. So I took my Wand and pointed it at my self. And I did it. I died.”

“Calén…” Arwen’s breath hitched in her throat when Calén looked at her with tears streaming down pale cheeks.

“I was sent to this world not as a reward, but as punishment for taking my own life. I was given people who love me, who wouldn’t betray me. I have met Aragorn and I’ve found love in him. This is my punishment; my atonement,” his voice broke and Arwen rushed forward to envelope him in her arms.

“This is not a punishment,” she whispered with ever piece of certainty she could gather. “You were _rewarded_ for suffering everything you did with a family and a chance at happiness, and you _will_ live to see that happiness, Calén. I am sure of it.” She felt him wrap his arms around her waist and together they sunk to the floor.

Arwen closed her eyes as Calén cried into her chest, and she buried her face in his soft hair.

 _In the name of the Valar,_ she prayed as tears streamed down her cheeks, _whatever grace still lives in me - let it pass to him._

She raised her head and looked out the window at the Sun rising high in the sky.

_Let him be spared._

**cut**

“Arwen?”

She stopped reading when Calén interrupted her and raised her head to look at him. He was looking out the window above his bed, propped up by several pillows and covered with a thick cover made out of fur.

“Yes?” she prompted only to frown when she saw him wringing his hands in his lap.

“Your father has sent the Sword of the King to Aragorn, didn’t he?” he asked, his wavering voice full of worry and anticipation.

“He did. It should reach him any day now,” she said and Calén nodded weakly.

Arwen closed the book and stood up. She placed the book in her chair before she took a seat beside Calén and took his hands in hers. He looked at her as she raised them to her mouth. Cupping his hands within hers she blew hot air in them and rubbed them, trying to chase the cold out of Calén’s nimble fingers.

She looked at him and smiled comfortingly. “Everything will be alright, Calén. We have to believe that, otherwise there is nothing left for us,” she said and Calén bowed his head a bit.

“What if there is truly nothing left?” he whispered.

Arwen sighed and gently took his face between her hands making him look at her. “There is always hope, little one,” she spoke strongly and Calén swallowed difficultly. “There is always hope.”

**cut**

Arwen sighed heavily as she walked towards Calén’s room with a bowl of fresh fruit in her hands. Calén has been growing steadily weaker with each passing day. He could hardly eat anything in fear of not being able to keep it down, and even walking seemed too heavy a chore for him.

They have received news a few days ago that the Battle of Gondor had been won. It wasn’t over yet. The Shadow in the East seemed bigger and stronger than ever, but at least they had received some good news.

Braving herself and putting a smile on her face, Arwen opened the door only to stop in her tracks, almost dropping the bowl when she found Calén standing beside the window looking to the East. He was barely holding himself up, his breathing was shallow and quick, and beads of sweat were covering his brow.

“Calén what are you…”

“Arwen?” he interrupted her as he slowly turned to face her, and her eyes widened when she realized his eyes were completely black. “Arwen, I…”

“Calén!!” She dropped the bowl and it broke into hundreds of pieces, and Arwen caught Calén as he fell. She cradled him to her chest with her left arm, cupping his left cheek with her right hand to look at his face. “Calén, stay with me! Calén!!” she whispered frantically, “Help!!” she called out, “Someone, help me!!” A second later an Elf ran in only to halt mid step. “Get Lady Galadriel, quickly!!”

“Yes, my Lady!” He ran out of the room and Arwen looked down at Calén who was choking on his breath.

He was fading.

“Calén? Calén, you can’t leave! You can’t! You promised, remember? You promised to wait for Aragorn to come back!”

“Arwen…” he whispered in a broken, raspy voice. “Arwen, you need to - Aragorn - tell Aragorn that I am sorry - tell him...” he gasped darkened emerald orbs grew duller.

“Calén, no!” She bowed her head and rested her forehead on his. “Please!” she whimpered, holding on to him for dear life. “You can’t die! Not now!” She felt him go lax within her arms as a cold wind danced around her. “Calén!!”

**cut**

When an evil laugh echoed through the White City, followed by a raging cold wind and the sound of glass shattering against stone, Gandalf the White, followed by Eomer of Gondor, Legolas of Mirkwood and Gimli, son of Gloin, ran into the throne room only to find Aragorn kneeling in front of the first step with his back turned on them, shoulders hunched and head bowed, with broken, scattered pieces of the Palantír around him.

“Aragorn!” Gandalf rushed over to the broken man and kneeled in front of him. He took a firm hold of Aragorn’s shoulders as the man raised his head. Gandalf’s old heart broke at the sight of tears trailing down Aragorn’s cheeks. The man’s strong frame was shaking, and his stormy gray eyes were filled with grief and loss.

“He is gone,” he whispered and Gandalf froze. He looked at Legolas, Gimli and Eomer, and seeing their forlorn expressions, Gandalf looked back at Aragorn.

They knew who Aragorn was talking about. Even though not one of them has ever met the one Aragorn gave his heart to, they had known about him.

They had known about the raven-haired Elf which captured Aragorn’s heart on their first meeting. They had known about the choice the young Elf has made. They had known of the love Aragorn held for Calénandir.

And in that moment they had known that all hope has faded from Aragorn’s soul with the knowledge that Calénandir was gone.

Gandalf felt Aragorn shift and he frowned in worry when the Dúnedain started to rise. The Wizard followed after Aragorn, and fear gripped his heart when he looked into Aragorn’s eyes.

“Tomorrow we march for the Black Gates,” Aragorn spoke in a voice that was void of any emotion. “For Frodo. For Gondor. Tomorrow, Sauron will fall.”

**cut**

_I was not supposed to survive_ , Aragorn thought as he accepted his cape from Legolas and his sword from Gimli. _I was supposed to die in that battle._ He fastened the sword to his belt and turned around to look at his friends.

“The people are waiting,” Legolas said and Aragorn nodded without a word.

A month has passed since the war ended, a month since Middle-Earth had been freed from the Shadow once and for all, since they burned the bodies of their enemies and buried their comrades with honors.

Aragorn could hear people celebrating outside. He could hear them cheering. His friends were with him. Their world was safe, but Aragorn could find no joy in his heart. It felt to him like all of that was pointless. It felt as though all colors have faded from the world, as though in one fell swipe a cold, clawed hand ripped every ray of hope and happiness out of Aragorn’s chest. He couldn’t feel the warmth of the Sun. He couldn’t smell the scent of flowers blooming in the City, or feel the warm breeze on his face.

Everything felt void of light.

“Are you going, laddy?”

Aragorn looked at Gimli and nodded. “Let us go.” He followed after the two down the great hall of the King’s Tower and out on the patio. Legolas quickly slipped away to join his people while Gimli took his place beside Gandalf with a pillow in his hands on which the Crown of the King of Gondor waited to be placed on Aragorn’s head.

Hundreds of people were gathered in front of Aragorn, but he couldn’t see them. He turned to face Gandalf without a word and kneeled in front of him. He bowed his head, faintly aware of Gandalf taking the crown and holding it above the Wizard. He felt the crown settle on his head and glanced up at Gandalf.

“Now come the days of the King!” Gandalf announced, his voice flowing with the wind.

Aragorn stood up, straightened and Gandalf smiled at him calmingly.

“May they be blessed,” he said directly to Aragorn, and the newly crowned King of Gondor swallowed difficultly as he turned around to face his people.

A thundering cheer followed by clapping of hundreds of hands broke the silence, and Aragorn struggled to remember the rest of the ceremony. He glanced at Gandalf and the Istari nodded reassuringly.

Aragorn took a deep breath and straightened his stance as silence settled over the crowd again. “This day does not belong to one man, but to all,” his mouth went dry as he spoke, but he forced himself to go on. “Let us together rebuild this world, so we may share in the days of peace.”

A cheer louder than the one before rang through Aragorn’s ears as he wet his dry lips.

Giving his best not to think, he looked at the light blue horizon, for a moment trying to ignore the aching emptiness in his heart.

 _I give hope to Men, I leave none for myself_ , he thought as he parted his lips and started to sing.

“Et Eärello Endorenna utúlien. Sinome maruvan ar Hildinyar tenn' Ambar-metta.” ( Out of the Great Sea to Middle-earth I am come. In this place will I abide, and my heirs, unto the ending of the world.)

He made his way down the stairs to greet his people, hardly aware he was doing it. He bowed at Faramir and Eowyn, who both looked absolutely radiating. Eomer then stepped out to greet him, and Aragorn returned his bow, knowing that Eomer was now King of Rohan.

His heart sank when he came upon Legolas and the Elves, and when the Elf placed his hand on Aragorn’s shoulder, the King of Gondor had to gather every piece of his strength, every last breath of self-control as to stop the tears he felt gathering in his eyes from falling.

He placed his left hand on Legolas’ right shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Hannon lle,” (thank you) he whispered and Legolas smiled at him.

Aragorn frowned in confusion when Legolas’ smile turned into a smirk. His hand slipped off of Legolas’ shoulder as the Elf stepped to the side to reveal Lady Galadriel and Lord Elrond. Behind them was Arwen, and Aragorn’s heart stopped beating.

Beside Arwen someone was holding a staff with a long white Crest of the King concealing who it was. The wind blew, and Aragorn caught sight of raven black tresses.

His eyes widened as he watched Galadriel and Elrond exchange happy smiles while Arwen placed her hand on someone’s shoulder. Ever so slowly, Galadriel and Elrond stepped to the side and the one holding the crest took a slow step forward.

Aragorn stopped breathing all together, and he was certain that his heart wasn’t beating anymore as the white crest was moved to the side, and the emerald orbs of his beloved looked up into his gray eyes.

Pale white skin was complimented by clothes made out of pale green velvet which hugged a lithe torso, while the long cloak danced around lean legs, and long sleeves gathered at delicate elbows. Long, raven black hair fell free of any bounds, while a thin, silvery crown with small silver forget-me-nots entwined around a thin string rested on the bowed head. Long, thin, dexterous fingers gripped the staff with the crest tightly, and he seemed to be holding his breath.

He stopped right in front of Aragorn who stared at the creature for what seemed like an eternity. In the next moment, Aragorn slowly raised his left hand and took the staff. Someone must have taken it, because a moment later the staff was gone, and Aragorn took that one last step towards the one he thought he had lost forever.

To Aragorn’s shock, the love of his life bowed his head lower, and Aragorn swallowed when he saw the tremors shaking that slight frame.

He raised his hands and cupped those pale cheeks within them, feeling the warmth against his sweaty palms. He raised the bowed head up and looked into those emerald orbs which enslaved Aragorn’s heart the first time they’ve met. A smile tugged on thin, rosy lips, and something in Aragorn snapped.

He leaned in an kissed his love, not caring about hundreds of people standing around them.

Who were apparently cheering.

**cut**

The sounds of celebration were echoing through the White City, but in the King’s chambers, silence reigned over two lovers cuddled together in the warm bed.

Aragorn lied on his back with Calén’s head resting on his chest. Their legs were entwined under the silken sheets, and Aragorn’s left arm was wrapped around Calén’s waist, while their fingers lied entwined on Aragorn’s stomach. Calén’s right arm was tucked under his head, and the Elf radiated content.

“I had thought I’d lost you,” Aragorn whispered after long moments spent in silence.

“You almost did,” Calén answered quietly and raised his head to look at Aragorn, long raven hair falling around them like a curtain shielding them from the world. “I didn’t know if I would be able to come back.”

“What happened?” Even though Aragorn didn’t even want to _remember_ almost losing Calén let alone talk about it, he needed to know.

Calén licked his lips and shifted around a bit until he was sitting beside Aragorn.

“Calén?” The King sat up and leaned forward a bit to look in Calén’s eyes. Calén took a deep breath and raised his head to smile lovingly at Aragorn.

Even though he was slightly confused when Calén cupped his face and pulled him into a slow, loving kiss, Aragorn didn’t resist. He felt as though he wouldn’t be able to let go of Calén for a long time, and Aragorn was nowhere near strong enough to deny his Elf anything, much less a kiss.

“Do you remember when we have first met?” the emerald eyed Elf murmured as he traced the lines of Aragorn’s face with the tips of his fingers. Aragorn took a gentle hold of thin wrists and placed loving kisses in the middle of each palm.

“I’ve felt as though I’ve strayed into a dream,” Aragorn muttered as he clasped their hands together on his chest.

Calén smiled lovingly and licked his lips. “Do you remember the stag?” his question made Aragorn laugh quietly.

“Of course I remember him.”

Calén nodded and took a deep breath. “That was the spirit of my father.” Aragorn froze and looked deep in Calén’s eyes. “Were it not for him, we wouldn’t have met that night. We probably never would have met.” Calén swallowed and shifted a bit as he looked down at their joined hands. “You know that I am not of this world, but what you don’t know is that before I came to be here, I had been a Wizard - the most powerful Wizard my old world has ever seen. When I came to this world, I lost my powers. I couldn’t use magic.” He looked in Aragorn’s eyes and a small smile stretched thin lips. “That is not the case anymore,” he whispered and Aragorn’s eyes widened. “When I had died, I have met my parents and I had been given a choice; either I could stay with them in the afterlife or I could return here and spend the rest of my life with you,” he laughed quietly and shrugged hunched shoulders. “I think it is quite obvious which choice I made.”

“But - But what does that mean?” Aragorn asked and Calén smiled at him lovingly.

“That means that you and I will get to live long, hopefully peaceful lives, surrounded by our friends and family.” Calén bit into his lip in hesitation and Aragorn shivered when those emerald eyes filled with tears. “That means that I will be able to provide you with an heir; as many as you would like, as a matter of fact.”

“But - But how is that possible?” Feeling joy blossom in his heart, Aragorn took a firmer hold of Calén’s hands while the raven-haired man laughed.

“Everything is possible to magic,” Calén said only to yelp when Aragorn tackled him and hovered over him with a huge grin decorating handsome features.

“Have I told you today that I love you?”

Calén laughed and wrapped his arms around Aragorn’s shoulders. “Several times, but it will not be a bad thing if you say it again.”

Aragorn bowed down and started peppering kisses all over Calén’s face, drawing bubbling laughter out of his perfect consort. “You are the most beautiful, perfect, amazing consort any man could ever wish for,” Aragorn whispered and Calén snickered.

“Better start practicing, my King. I hear children take lots of work.”

Aragorn smirked and his eyes darkened with passion. “Well then, we better start.”

**cut**

**I hope you liked it, because I fricking adore this peace. It was difficult as HELL to write, but I ADORE it.**

**All my love,**

**Ms. Yuki**


	2. The Love Of A King

Written on **Yana5's** request!!

I had no idea how to bring anyone from Harry’s/Calén’s past life back, so I improvised a bit. I hope you'll still like it!!

 **Disclaimer:** I claim no rights to the characters of Harry Potter or the Lord of the Rings. They belong to their respective owners.

 **Warnings:** slash, Mpreg, explicit content, angst

**cut**

_Born of my voiceless time, your step_   
_Slowly, ecstatically advance:_   
_Toward my expectation’s bed_   
_They move in a hushed, ice-clear trance._

_Pure being, shadow-shape divine -_   
_Your step deliberate, how sweet!_   
_God! - every gift I have imagined_   
_Comes to me on those naked feet._

_If so it be your offered mouth_   
_Is shaped already to appease_   
_That which occupied my thought_   
_With the live substance of a kiss,_

_Oh hasten not this loving act,_   
_Rapture where self and not-self meet:_   
_My life has been the awaiting you,_   
_your footfall was my own heart’s beat._

_\- Paul Valéry, ‘Footsteps’_

**cut**

A cold winter wind blew down the streets of the White City. The skies were dark with heavy clouds, and snow was falling and covering the world in a pure white blanket. There were no people on the streets. No soul wandered the silent city, as the first blizzard of the Fourth Age raged and roared through Minas Tirith.

In the highest tower of the Citadel, in front of a crackling fire, sitting in a wooden rocking chair was a vision in white. Raven black tresses fell around a slight form dressed in warm white clothes. Loving eyes the color of pure emeralds shone with warmth and adoration. Pale white skin glowed like liquid gold in the light of the fire, and thin rosy lips were pulled into a loving smile.

In the arms of that beautiful creature was a miracle. Wrapped in warm blankets was a child only several weeks old. Its small head rested on the creature’s chest and light warm breaths escaped the child’s small mouth.

Low humming could be heard echoing in the stone room as the raven-haired creature rocked the child in its arms.

“I could spend eternity watching you.”

The creature raised its head and the smile on its face grew.

“Aragorn, you’re here!”

The King of the United Kingdoms entered the room, closing the door behind himself. He walked over to the rocking chair and bowed down to lay a kiss on his Consort’s tender lips before he looked at the child sleeping in his Consort’s arms. With a gentle hand he cupped the child’s small head, as warmth radiated from every line of his face.

“He is already asleep,” he commented lovingly and his Consort chuckled.

“He is but a few weeks old, my King. It will be a while before he will do much more than sleep.”

Aragorn chuckled and looked in his Consort’s eyes. He kneeled beside the rocking chair as he reached up with his free hand to brush a few raven tresses behind a pointed ear. “For as long as my two miracles are healthy and strong, I couldn’t care less for anything else, my Calén,” he said and Calén leaned down carefully to kiss him. “Come now, it is time for bed.”

Aragorn stood up and Calén followed, cooing at their son as he stirred in his arms. The baby stilled as they left the room, entering the bedroom.

While Aragorn left to change into his sleep-wear Calén carried their son over to the crib. It was a beautiful thing carved out of a Mallorn tree; a gift from Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn. The little pillow and the warm blanket were gifts from Lady Arwen who sowed them herself. Beside the crib were Lord Elrond’s gifts - various toys for the little prince to play with when he grows a little older, like a rocking pony and a wooden chest full of various animals carved from the trees that grow in Rivendell.

As Calén laid their son in the crib and covered him with the blanket, the baby cooed and stirred a bit, laying little fisted hands on the pillow on either side of his head, and sighing contently, not waking up.

“Sleep, my little Elessar,” Calén whispered as he caressed his son’s brow with the tips of his fingers. “Sleep, and let no bad dreams disturb you.” He smiled when he felt two loving arms encircle his waist as Aragorn hugged him from behind.

“Come, my love. We have an early day tomorrow.”

Calén smiled and allowed Aragorn to lead him over to their bed. The King helped his Consort out of the heavy winter wear, and both slid under warm covers, immediately settling into each others arms.

Aragorn pulled Calén to his chest, burying his nose in his beloved’s velvety hair, while Calén nuzzled back into his King’s warm body, sighing as peace claimed his mind. They fell asleep within moments, wrapped up in each other’s warmth, lulled by the love they had for one another.

Come spring it would be a year since the defeat of Sauron and the start of the Fourth Age. A lot has happened since Aragorn was crowned King of Gondor and Arnor and took Calénandir as his Consort. They were loved by all and known as fair rulers, just and merciful. They ruled in wisdom and understanding, giving Council to all who came asking, and shelter to all those in need.

It was a time of peace and prosperity, and there was not a soul in Middle-Earth that hoped it wouldn’t last.

Some time later, Aragorn woke up to silent whimpering and the rustling of velvety sheets.

“Elessar?”

“Sleep, my love. I will see to him,” Aragorn reassured Calén who immediately fell asleep again, and after he kissed his Consort’s lips Aragorn climbed out of bed to see to his fussing son.

“What is it, little one?” he murmured lovingly as he picked Elessar up into strong arms, and the child stilled almost immediately. A pair of light green eyes gazed up at Aragorn, and the child’s little lips parted in a happy smile. Aragorn chuckled as he rocked his son in his arms, his heart full of warmth and love for their little miracle.

Uncalled for, painful memories filled Aragorn’s mind. He looked at his sleeping husband and his heart clenched in remembered fear and anger.

Two times he had almost lost his greatest treasure. Two times he had failed to protect him, only the second time he had had more than just Calén to protect. First time it was to the Shadow which almost took Calén from Aragorn. The second one was to Aragorn’s own mistake of trusting the wrong people.

With light footsteps, Aragorn approached their bed and took a seat, leaning back against the wooden headboard. As though feeling him - and Aragorn was sure that Calén actually could - Calén curled towards him, resting his head on Aragorn’s thigh.

Aragorn sighed and allowed his eyes to slip closed.

 _Never again_ , he thought, _no harm shall befall him ever again._

**cut**

_Second month of the Fourth Age_

**cut**

“This is ridiculous,” Calén muttered, gazing in amazement, while one servant after another brought various gifts into his and Aragorn’s chambers. Gandalf chuckled standing right beside Calén, and the King Consort looked at the White Wizard with wide eyes. “Will this not end?” he asked and Gandalf smiled at him kindly.

“Those are all gifts from various Lords of Gondor and Arnor, my dear. They are merely shows of respect and well-wishes to you and Aragorn.”

“But what ever should I _do_ with all of this?” the young Consort asked as he approached an open chest. Clothes of all colors and fabrics laid in it, and Calén picked up a beautiful light green tunic with silver embroideries. There were at least 7 more big chests around with clothes. Several were smaller and contained jewelry of unimaginable values. There were books and transcripts in some, and several beautiful paintings in others. “I have never seen so many things in one place,” Calén sounded somewhat lost, and Gandalf approached him to place a reassuring hand on Calén’s shoulder.

“Tell the servants to put them away if you do not know what to do with all these things right now. You can look through them on a later date, when everything calms down a bit.”

Calén nodded and returned the tunic he took back into the chest. “In all honesty, I almost miss the days I spent in Lothlórien,” Calén spoke up. “They were much simpler.”

“Do I hear regret in your voice?” Calén’s beautiful face brightened when Aragorn’s voice reached him, and the Elf turned to look at the entrance to the room where Aragorn stood with obvious amusement on charming features.

“Aragorn!” The King Consort rushed over to his beloved and fell into awaiting arms, laughing when Aragorn grabbed him around his waist and spun them in circles. Once Calén’s feet were safely on the ground again, Aragorn bowed down and kissed him lovingly while Calén laughed against Aragorn’s lips. “Has the Council finally decided to give you back to me?” the Elf teased and Aragorn chuckled, resisting the urge to groan and roll his eyes.

“I have half a mind to mount a horse with you and ride as fast as the wind can carry us somewhere far away, where we wouldn’t have to worry about silly, unimportant things.”

“I sincerely doubt that the reestablishment of old laws and the reinstitution of the High Council of Men is silly and unimportant,” Calén teased and Aragorn sighed.

“Nothing is more important to me than the time I get to spend with you, neenaramin.” (my star) Calén chuckled and shook his head.

“Do not let the Council hear you say that, my King. It has reached my ears that there are a few Ladies of the Court that do not like me.”

“That is to be expected,” Gandalf joined their conversation, and Aragorn and Calén parted to look at the old Istari. “There will always be jealousy in the hearts of both men and women, my friends. You must not let it weigh down on your minds and hearts.”

“That is not something that you have to worry about, Gandalf,” Aragorn assured his friend as he wrapped his right arm around Calén’s waist and held him close. “Nothing shall part me from Calén again,” his words sounded like an oath and Calén gifted Aragorn with a beautiful smile.

“Nothing can take me from your side, Aragorn. This is where I belong,” he said, and Gandalf couldn’t help but smile at the sight of love radiating from their eyes. It was a beautiful sight to behold, and it warmed Gandalf’s heart to know that the two men found one another in the times of great woe and now had the chance to live their lives in love and peace.

“I shall leave the two of you now. I must speak with Faramir and Eowyn.” Gandalf bowed at the King and Consort, and just as the last servant left their room, the door closed leaving the two men alone.

“You seem tense, Aragorn,” Calén spoke lovingly as he placed his hands on Aragorn’s chest and brushed them up to Aragorn’s strong shoulders. The King sighed as he rested his hands on Calén’s slim hips and pulled the Elf close to his taller frame, bowing his head to nuzzle his nose against Calén’s.

“Sometimes I think that I prefer the predictable dangers of the Wilderness than the unpredictable dangers of the Court,” Aragorn mourned and Calén laughed lightly, cupping Aragorn’s face between small hands and pulling him into a kiss.

“Do you have any place to be?” he asked and Aragorn shook his head.

“Thankfully no. We are free until dinner.”

Calén smiled and nodded. “Come then. I know how to help you relax,” he said as he took Aragorn’s hands in his smaller ones and led the King over to their big bed. “Take off your tunic and lie down on your stomach. I will be right back,” he instructed as he left for the bathroom while Aragorn did as he was told.

Calén came back moments later with a beautiful glass bottle in his hands with a milky white liquid in it. He placed it on the nightstand before he took his short-sleeved tunic off, remaining in a button up shirt. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and straddled Aragorn’s strong thighs before he summoned the bottle into his hands, uncapping it and spilling some of the liquid into his right hand, the scent of water-lilies and lavender spreading through the air in a matter of seconds. He levitated the bottle back onto the nightstand before he rubbed his hands together, spreading the oil over them.

Aragorn sighed in relaxation when he felt Calén’s small hands on his back spreading the oil over taunt, coiled muscles.

Calén smiled lovingly as he felt his beloved slowly relax under his skillful hands. He gently rubbed the tight knots from Aragorn’s shoulders and along the curve of his spine. His nimble fingers eased all traces of worries from Aragorn’s body. The scent of the oil calmed Aragorn’s mind, bringing peace to his thoughts.

The Elf laughed lightly when a groan rumbled in Aragorn’s chest after Calén managed to break one particularly tight knot on the small of Aragorn’s back.

“You should stop worrying so much, my King. It is not good for your health,” Calén commented and Aragorn sighed.

“What isn’t good for my health is spending too much time away from you.” Calén laughed as his hands slid up Aragorn’s back to now relaxed shoulders and down strong arms.

Calén sat up and leaned over Aragorn to peck his cheek, but before the Elf could climb off of their bed, Aragorn grabbed Calén’s right wrist and tugged him back, and within seconds Calén was lying under Aragorn whose dilated eyes gazed down at the Elf with mischievousness shinning in them.

“And where do you think you are going?” he murmured in a deep, reverberating voice, making a shiver shake Calén’s body.

“I thought I would leave you to rest, my King,” Calén answered looking at Aragorn with faked innocence.

The King hummed as he kneeled over the Elf, and raised his right hand to hook his index finger under the collar of Calén’s shirt. “I finally have time to be with you, neenaramin. I am not letting you out of my sight,” he spoke lowly as he tugged one button after another from their holes, revealing the soft planes of Calén’s defined torso to hungry gray eyes.

Calén’s breath caught in his chest and he threw his head back closing his eyes as Aragorn bowed down to lay a light kiss on the hollow of Calén’s throat. Heat was already growing in the Elf’s body as Aragorn placed his right hand on Calén’s stomach spreading his fingers and sliding his hand up a side until his thumb brushed over Calén’s left nipple. The Elf gasped and arched up as Aragorn kissed down his chest and while Calén’s left hand fisted in the sheets covering their bed, his right hand tangled in Aragorn’s hair.

Aragorn swallowed difficultly, keeping a tight rein on his desire as he adored the body trembling under him. It has been a while since he had last made love to his raven-haired Elf. His days were full of meetings with different people, of visiting officials and making sure everything in his Kingdom ran smoothly. More often than not he would see Calén during breakfast and dinner only, and later they would simply slip into bed, wrapped in each other’s arms, too tired for anything else.

Through all of that, Calén said nothing. He merely smiled when Aragorn would rise in a hurry from breakfast and wish his King good luck. In the evenings he would lovingly kiss Aragorn’s forehead and wish him good night, humming as Aragorn fell into exhausted slumber with his head resting on Calén’s chest.

The Elf took almost everything in stride, making sure that everything was alright in the palace while Aragorn took care of the business concerning their Kingdom. He never once complained in the past two months that Aragorn was almost never there. He never once said anything or showed anger or displeasure, only unlimited support and unconditional love.

Aragorn knew about the whispers among some of the Court Ladies. He has heard from Faramir and Eowyn that a few daughters of higher officials were not pleased that their King chose Calén as his Consort. There was nothing Aragorn could do about it at the moment, but his Steward also told him that Calén managed to brush all of them off with grace and poise.

There was no doubt in Aragorn’s heart that someday someone would try to contest his choice of companion, and Aragorn hoped with every piece of his soul that he would be there with Calén when that happened.

He would allow no harm to befall his beloved; not now, not ever.

“Aragorn!” the Elf cried out as the Man kissed the Elf’s straining need through the light material of his leggings, hooking his fingers under the waistband and slowly tugging them down.

Calén’s hips rose up and Aragorn licked his lips as his Consort’s body was gloriously revealed to him. He threw Calén’s clothes on the floor carelessly as he sat back on his legs under watchful emerald eyes. He crawled on all fours to loom over Calén, and goose-bumps covered Aragorn’s skin when Calén reached up with trembling hands to cup the King’s face between them and pull him into a deep kiss. His shirt slid down pale shoulders to gather around thin elbows, seeming almost gray against the perfect paleness of Calén’s unblemished skin.

“Lie on your stomach,” Aragorn requested gently and the Elf tilted his head to the side in confusion before he did what he was told. Aragorn took his boots and pants off leaving them on the floor, and reached for the bottle of oil Calén left on the nightstand while Calén took off his shirt and lied down on the bed with hands tucked under his head facing away from Aragorn.

Aragorn uncapped the bottle and spilled some of the oil on his right hand, spreading it over his fingers as he returned the bottle to the nightstand. He lied down beside Calén and kissed his right shoulder making his beloved shiver, before gently tracing the curve of Calén’s spine with the tips of his oiled fingers, his mouth watering at the silent gasps leaving his Consort’s perfect lips.

Once Aragorn reached his destination, he rubbed a gentle circle around Calén’s entrance, making the Elf’s hips twitch back towards Aragorn’s hand, whole body shivering in delight. Aragorn sneaked his left hand under Calén and pulled him back to chest, littering kisses and gentle nips over Calén’s right shoulder. He hooked Calén’s right leg over his right forearm, making the Elf almost lie on him as he pushed his index finger inside the tight heat, the King’s cock twitching at the feeling of it encircling and clamping down on his finger.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Aragorn pushed his finger in and out of Calén, making sure to brush over his prostate with a light, teasing touch. Calén’s right hand was fisted in the pillow his head was resting on, and he was biting into his left hand, gasping and whimpering around it.

Deeming Calén ready, Aragorn added another finger burying his face in Calén’s velvety hair when the Elf arched his torso, moving with the slow rhythm Aragorn set up. He was finding it hard to breathe and felt as though he would burst, but Aragorn was determined to make Calén feel good before he even thought of granting relief to himself.

Pale skin glimmered with a thin sheen of sweat, and raven locks contrasted sharply against it. Aragorn swallowed difficultly as he added the third finger and Calén moaned around the fist he was biting into when Aragorn pressed against his prostate with more force than before. He was hardly moving his fingers, massaging that sweet, sweet bundle of nerves sending surges of pleasure up Calén’s spine.

Aragorn could tell that the Elf was close and slowly pulled his fingers out. Spreading the rest of the oil over his aching length, he aligned it with Calén’s entrance pushing in inch by agonizing inch.

He stilled when he was buried to the hilt as he snuck his right arm from under Calén’s thigh and gently took a hold of his weeping cock. Rolling his hips slowly in time with the pumping of his hand, Aragorn gave in to the pleasure threatening to overwhelm him. Calén came with a choked up scream, and Aragorn squeezed his eyes tightly shut and grunted through clenched teeth as he followed after him.

Breathing together, their hearts beating in sync, they enjoyed the aftermath of their orgasm. Aragorn wiped his right hand on the sheets before he covered Calén’s lower stomach with it. Calén lowered his right hand and entwined their fingers together, sighing in content when Aragorn kissed his shoulder lovingly.

“What brought this on, my King?” the Elf whispered tiredly and Aragorn hummed as he rested his cheek on Calén’s shoulder.

“I hardly had time to touch you for two months. I cannot help but feel that I have greatly neglected you.”

Calén chuckled and gave a squeeze to Aragorn’s hand. “Two months ago we were at war, Aragorn. It is only normal that it will be a while until everything settles. And besides, I am not alone. While I would love to spend more time with you, I have Eowyn and Gandalf, if he is not with you and Faramir at Council-meetings.”

“But that is not the same as us spending time together,” Aragorn answered and tightened his hold on Calén. “I did not marry the Council. I married _you_.”

Calén laughed and nudged back against Aragorn.

Aragorn slowly slipped out of the Elf, allowing Calén to turn around, and Calén leaned on his right hand, looking down at Aragorn with a loving smile. Long raven hair fell around the slight form like a veil, and viridian orbs shone like emerald jewels in the moonlight. He raised his right hand and gently tucked a few of Aragorn’s brown locks behind his right ear before he caressed the bearded face with the back of his fingers.

“Yes, you married me,” Calén whispered, “but you are not only my husband, Aragorn. You are also the King of Gondor and Arnor, and you have a responsibility to your people. Worry not about me. There will come a time when we will be together more often.”

Aragorn swallowed and wet his lips. He rested his right hand on Calén’s left hip, rubbing small circles in the pale skin with his thumb. The sun was setting, bathing Calén in orange, purple and yellow lights, making him look like a nymph the Valar sent to Aragorn to ease his heart and bring repose to his tired mind. “Every day you give me more and more reasons to love you,” he whispered and Calén laughed lightly; a sound that Aragorn could swear was equal to the enchanting songs of the Valar.

“I need no reason to love you, my King; my hope. I have died once to come to this world, and I have died again and came to life to be with you. You are my life, Aragorn. I cannot be without you and therefore there is no way that I couldn’t love you. Whatever sorrows lay ahead, whatever perils, I will always be by your side.”

Aragorn felt as though a steel hand was squeezing his heart. He pulled Calén into a hug, and the Elf sighed as he tucked his head under Aragorn’s chin. The King kissed the top of the Elf’s head as he closed his eyes, and in his heart he repeated the oath he gave on their wedding day.

_No harm shall ever again befall you, Calén. For as long as I draw breath, you shall be safe._

**cut**

Eowyn looked up from the book she had been reading when a tired sigh broke her concentration. Her eyes rested on the deceivingly delicate form of the King Consort, and she frowned in worry when she saw his sad, weary countenance. He also had a book in his hands, but she noticed that he hadn’t turned the pages in a while. Even though he was sitting straight, she didn’t fail to notice the weight pressing down on those deceivingly delicate shoulders.

“Is something wrong, my Lord?” she asked and Calén raised his head to look at her, trying to gift her with one of his beautiful smiles, but it was obvious that he was unable to muster the strength to do so.

“How many times have I asked you to call me by my name, Eowyn? Please. I would like to believe that we have more than just the relationship of a King Consort and a Lady of the Court.”

Eowyn smiled at him gently and nodded, but before she could answer, she heard what sounded like mocking laughter coming from a group of young Court maidens sitting a short distance away from them.

She saw the corners of Calén’s lips tilt downwards and his knuckles turned white from the force he had clenched the book with.

“You can hear what they are saying?” she asked and Calén looked at her with a wavering smile.

“To my misfortune,” his voice was strained and Eowyn noticed the slight shivers which started to shake his body.

“Calén…”

“Please, excuse me, Eowyn. I am not feeling well. I will see you at dinner.” He closed his book and stood up, and if one didn’t look hard enough they wouldn’t see his inner turmoil showing in his dignified, proud stance.

He walked out of the Courtyard and into the stone halls of the Citadel, not aware that Eowyn was following him from a safe distance.

She had noticed that his skin looked paler than usual, and that his eyes were unusually shadowed, and she knew that she would not know peace if something were to happed to him and she wasn’t there to help him.

In her heart she cursed the jealous ignorance of some of the Court Ladies. She knew what they were saying about the King Consort. She knew that they thought him unworthy of the King, that Aragorn should have taken a woman of Gondor as his Consort, someone who could have given him an heir. Eowyn knew that they often commented on the fact that Aragorn and Calén rarely spend time together. They twisted the truth making it seem as though Aragorn was avoiding Calén, and even though the Elf knew that it wasn’t true - that Aragorn was dealing with the affairs of the Kingdom - the rumors the Ladies of the Court were spreading were still hurting him.

It did not help that just this morning they’ve received news that Aragorn would have to ride to Edhellond to deal with a few problems that arose concerning the town chieftain.

Her thoughts came to a sharp stop when she saw Calén sway and lean onto the wall for support.

“Calén?!” she cried out in terror and ran to his side just as he slid down the wall. She fell to her knees beside him and placed her hands on heaving shoulders.

His right hand was holding onto the wall while his left was fisted in his shirt. Sweat covered his brow, his eyes were slipping closed, and his breathing was strained and shallow.

“Calén, what is it? What is wrong?” He raised his head to look at her, but before he could answer his eyes slipped closed and he slumped against the wall, his hands falling limply by his sides. “Help!! Someone help!!” Eowyn cried out.

“Eowyn!”

She turned around frantically and relief colored her face when she saw Faramir running towards them.

“What happened?” he asked as he kneeled beside Eowyn and Calén.

“He collapsed! Carry him to his room. I will go to inform King Aragorn and Gandalf.” Faramir nodded and carefully scooped Calén’s light body into his arms while Eowyn ran down the hallway towards the Crown room.

**cut**

Aragorn was hardly aware of the conversation going on around him. He knew the Council was discussing the possibility of opening the old trading routes with the harbors in Befalas, Anfalas and Andrast, but for the life of him he couldn’t concentrate.

There was a strange feeling in his guts, and he felt as though something heavy was resting on his shoulders, pressing down on him as though to tell him that there were more urgent matters to worry about.

Aragorn caught Gandalf’s gaze and the Istari threw the King an encouraging glance, and Aragorn would have felt slightly better if in that moment the door of the Throne room didn’t slam open and Eowyn ran in as though the Hounds of Hell were chasing her.

“My King, you must come quickly!”

Ignoring the Council-members, Aragorn jumped out of his chair and met Eowyn half way.

“What is it? What happened?” he asked as fear gripped his heart.

“My King, you must hurry! His Highness, the King Consort - he isn’t well!” she spoke through tears of fear and worry, and Aragorn’s heart sunk.

“Gandalf, hurry!” Without sparing a glance at the Council-members, Aragorn rushed out of the Throne room and down the hallways of the Citadel. Eowyn and Gandalf were right behind him, but the only thought in Aragorn’s mind was to reach Calén’s side as soon as possible.

He ran into his and Calén’s bedroom and came to a sharp stop when he found Faramir sitting beside a sleeping Calén, pressing a wet towel to Calén’s forehead.

“My King!” Faramir stood up quickly and moved to the side when Aragorn hurried over to the bed.

Aragorn kneeled beside it, feeling faint, and took a gentle hold of Calén’s right hand with his shivering ones. “Calén?” he called weakly searching for any sign of injury on Calén’s still form, but beside the paleness of the Elf’s face Aragorn found none.

“Aragorn.”

The King looked over his shoulder at Gandalf who slowly approached him.

“Allow me to see to him. You need to calm down,” Gandalf spoke calmly, although there was worry in his pale blue eyes.

The King of the United Kingdoms swallowed and nodded slowly. He stood up on shaky legs and took a few steps back, allowing Gandalf to take his place, while Aragorn walked over to the fireplace and heavily took a seat in one of the armchairs, placing his elbows on his knees and hiding his face in his hands, fighting back tears of self-hatred, fear and worry.

Calén was ill! How did he not see it? How could he have missed it! He woke up with Calén every morning, spent breakfast and dinner with the Elf, and went to bed with him every night. How did he not see that Calén was not feeling well?!

“My King?”

Aragorn raised his head when Eowyn’s voice reached his ears and he found her kneeling beside him with her hands placed comfortingly on his left arm.

“What happened, Eowyn? What happened to Calén?” Aragorn asked in a weak, broken voice, and before she answered, Eowyn looked at her husband who was standing by the fireplace with his arms clasped behind his back and a compassionate gaze focused on their King.

“His Highness - _Calén_ and I were in the gardens,” She started. “We thought we could spend some time there reading in peace. There were a few Ladies of the Court there as well, but they did not sit with us. I had noticed that something was bothering him. Apparently, he could hear them talking about him. He excused himself, and at first I had thought that he was tired of hearing them gossip, but then I’d noticed that his hands were shaking and that he looked unsteady on his feet so I decided to follow him. I saw him collapse in the hallway and while Faramir brought him to your chambers I ran to find you.”

“Thank you, Eowyn,” Aragorn whispered. “Thank you for being there for Calén when I cannot be.”

“Do not blame yourself for this, my King,” Faramir spoke up and Aragorn looked at him. “This is not your fault.”

“How is this not my fault, Faramir? Instead of spending time with my Consort I am constantly on meetings. Tomorrow I would have left him here while I traveled to Edhellond. I have neglected the most important person in my life and because of what? Because of my duties to the Kingdom? I concern myself with it instead of taking care of the people insulting Calén behind my back. I’ve allowed it all to go unpunished! I let him suffer through it alone!”

“With all due respect, my King, but do you not think that Calén would have told you something if he could not handle the rumors and gossip alone?” Eowyn asked and Aragorn frowned at her.

“King Consort is strong,” Faramir agreed with his wife and smiled at Aragorn comfortingly when the King looked at him. “He knows very well to ignore the rumors spreading around the City by jealous women. Whatever it is that ails him will most certainly be of short lasting. Have faith in your husband. If it were something serious, I have no doubt that he would have already told you.”

Aragorn nodded weakly and gulped. While Faramir and Eowyn spoke with good intentions, their words did nothing to alleviate the sorrow which gripped Aragorn’s heart.

“Well, well, well.”

Aragorn and Eowyn jumped to their feet while Faramir took a step forward when Gandalf spoke up. The Istari laughed dryly and stood up still looking at Calén’s sleeping face.

“I haven’t seen something like this since the beginnings of the First Age.”

“Gandalf, what is it? What is wrong with Calén?” Aragorn asked as he hurried over to Gandalf and took the seat the Istari occupied a moment ago. He took Calén’s right hand between his bigger, shaking ones and looked up at Gandalf while Faramir and Eowyn approached the bed, and the Steward of Gondor wrapped his left arm around Eowyn’s waist.

“There is nothing wrong with Calénandir, my friend,” Gandalf spoke as happiness radiated from pale blue eyes. “On the contrary, you and Calén have been blessed by the Valar with something that hasn’t been seen since the olden days when the sons and daughters of the High Powers walked these lands.”

Aragorn’s breath hitched in his throat and his eyes widened. “You cannot mean…” the King whispered and Gandalf hummed with a smile as he placed his right hand on Aragorn’s left shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“Aragorn?” Before Gandalf could say a word Calén’s voice broke the strained silence.

Aragorn immediately focused on Calén, losing sight of everything else. “I am here, a’mael,” (beloved) he whispered as he gently caressed Calén’s left cheek with the back of his right hand.

“Mani marte?” (What happened?) Calén looked around in confusion.

“You collapsed on your way to our rooms, Calén. Why did you not tell me that you weren’t feeling well?” Aragorn asked with a worried, broken expression and Calén frowned.

“I was feeling alright last we had seen one another,” he answered and looked at Gandalf who smiled at Calén in a knowing way.

“You have been keeping secrets from us, Calénandir,” he chastised kindly and Calén’s lips opened in rebuttal, but Gandalf interrupted him before he could speak. “Tell us, Calén, while we know that you do not like to use magic in front of people, why have you been using it less in private as well?”

“Because I - I would feel weak every time I would use magic. I had thought it was because I still haven’t gotten used to it again,” he said as fear appeared in emerald eyes. “Gandalf, what is wrong with me? Why am I-…”

“Do not fret, child,” Gandalf interrupted him calmly. “Your magic is simply focusing inwards more and more to make sure that your child grows safe and sound.”

Shocked silence settled over the occupants of the room as they stared at Gandalf with wide eyes, while the old Wizard laughed into his chin and his eyes twinkled as he took his staff in both hands and leaned on it.

“I have not seen this since the bloodlines of Elves grew weak with time,” Gandalf muttered into his chin.

“A child?” Aragorn whispered as he placed his hand on Calén’s lower stomach before he looked at the Elf’s face. “Is it possible?”

“To magic, my friend, nothing is impossible,” Gandalf spoke up. “Rejoice, for in a few short months you two will become parents.”

Faramir and Eowyn exchanged joyous glances while Aragorn gazed at Calén’s shocked countenance.

“Parents?” Calén’s voice wavered as he looked in Aragorn’s eyes. “A child?”

Aragorn swallowed as tears filled his eyes, and one by one started to trail down his face. Neither he nor Calén noticed when Gandalf showed Eowyn and Faramir to follow him out.

“Aragorn?”

Said man looked at Calén’s face, and the Elf’s bottom lip quivered when he saw tears trailing down Aragorn’s cheeks, and the pure joy shining in his eyes.

“You are with child,” Aragorn whispered as though he couldn’t quite grasp it.

“Yes, my King; I am with child,” Calén stated as a smile started to grown on his lips. In the next moment Aragorn moved forward, cupped Calén’s face between his hands and kissed him like he never did before.

“I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve you…” he whispered between kisses as he rested his forehead on Calén’s, feeling his beloved’s hands fist on his forearms. “I have neglected you, and I’ve wronged you, and I’ve broken every promise I have ever given you, and…”

“Aragorn!” Calén stopped him and Aragorn looked into emerald eyes, seeing tears trailing down pale cheeks. He wiped them away with his thumbs as joy and pain mixed in his heart. “Think not of it, _please_. You blame yourself for something I don’t blame you for. You deserve everything I can give you, because you have given me reason to live. Please!” Calén whispered brokenly, and not able to find the words to answer him with, Aragorn kissed the Elf again pouring all the love and adoration he held in his heart into that simple action.

“I love you,” Aragorn whispered as Calén wrapped his arms around the King’s shoulders. “I love you with everything I am.” Aragorn buried his face in Calén’s neck as the Elf brushed his right hand through Aragorn’s hair.

“And I love you too, my King, my hope. I love you too.”

**cut**

“For Valar’s sake, Aragorn, you are speaking to my stomach!” Calén laughed teasingly only to have his husband shush him with an amused glare and a smile tugging at his lips.

Calén was sitting comfortably in an armchair while Aragorn kneeled on the floor between the Elf’s legs with his forearms resting on Calén’s thighs and face close to his stomach.

“Do no listed to your Atara, my son,” (mother) he spoke in staged whisper. “He is merely jealous that I am showing more attention to you than him.”

Calén rolled his eyes although he couldn’t stop grinning.

According to Gandalf he was in his third month of pregnancy, and everything was progressing nicely.

The word of the King Consort’s pregnancy reached every corner of Middle-Earth as though carried by the wind, and joy spread through the Kingdoms of Gondor and Arnor.

After Aragorn walked into the Throne room and announced to the Council-members that his husband was with child, a few things changed.

For once the trip to Edhellond was postponed until a later date, and all of a sudden the meetings were fewer and of shorter lasting, giving Aragorn more time to spend with his pregnant husband.

Of course, he would still have to travel to Edhellond, but Aragorn wanted to make sure that Calén was alright before he even thought of mounting a horse and leaving his husband alone.

Aragorn thought of taking Calén along, especially since Calén finally caved in and told Aragorn of all the rumors the Ladies of the Court were spreading, but Gandalf said that traveling at such lengths when Calén was only in his third month of pregnancy was not a good idea.

Even though Aragorn wanted to take action against those spreading lies behind his back, Calén talked him out of it saying that rumors never hurt anyone, and that Aragorn should concentrate on arranging everything in their Kingdom so that when their child was born they would be able to raise him in peace.

“I am the one carrying him, Aragorn. I have nothing to be jealous about.”

Aragorn chuckled at Calén’s words and slowly stood up. He took Calén’s hands and led him over to their bed.

“Aragorn, what are you doing?” Calén asked as his King and Husband kneeled on the bed and moved backwards on it making Calén follow him.

Aragorn then sat back on his legs and pulled Calén closer until the Elf was straddling the King’s thighs. Aragorn then placed his hands on Calén’s waist and looked up at his beloved with a loving smile. “I am taking what I can before I ride out the day after tomorrow, so that memories of you may warm me in the nights I shall spend away from you.”

Calén smiled and tilted his head to the side as he wrapped his arms around Aragorn’s shoulders. “And what shall keep me warm while you are away, Estel?” he asked and Aragorn leaned up to kiss him.

“My thoughts shall always be with you, neenaramin,” Aragorn whispered as he pushed his hands under Calén’s tunic to reach warm, soft skin. “You will be my first thought in the morning and the last before I go to sleep. I shall visit you in my dreams, and my love will always watch over you no matter the distance,” as he spoke Aragorn laid Calén down on their bed.

Unaware of dark thoughts passing through jealous minds, the two made love long into the night, not aware that there were cold winds blowing in their future.

**cut**

Calén sighed as he swayed back and forth in the rocking chair placed on the balcony of his and Aragorn’s room.

“Is something on your mind?”

He looked at Eowyn and smiled at her kindly as a warm wind danced around them.

“I am just thinking, Eowyn,” he said. “Aragorn left 5 days ago. I hope he and his entourage are safe.”

“I am sure the King is alright, Calén,” she said and Calén’s eyes glimmered with warmth. “Do not worry. The days of his absence shall pass quickly, and once he comes back you shall await the birth of your child together.”

“I know,” he answered as he placed his hands on his still flat stomach. “It is my greatest wish for Aragorn to be there when his son is born.”

“You already know it is a boy?” Eowyn asked with eyes wide with wonder and Calén laughed as he shook his head.

“No, we don’t. It is just a feeling I have.” He smiled as he looked at the blue horizon. “I have a feeling I am carrying a son.” He looked at her and winked. “I’m sure you’ll know that feeling soon enough.”

A furious blush covered Eowyn’s cheeks and Calén laughed merrily.

“I will go and see when dinner will be served,” she said and hurried away, followed by Calén’s amused laughter.

When he heard the door close he sighed, leaned his head back on the high back of the chair, closed his eyes and lovingly rubbed his stomach.

 _Grow strong and healthy, my son_ , he thought as he opened his eyes and looked to the East. _Your father is doing his best to create a peaceful world for you._

**cut**

_It is enough for me by day_   
_To walk the same bright earth with him;_   
_Enough that over us by night_   
_The same great roof of stars is dim._

_I do not hope to bind the wind_   
_Or set a fetter on the sea --_   
_It is enough to feel his love_   
_blow by like music over me._

_-Sara Teasdale, ‘Enough’_

**cut**

A month has passed since Aragorn left for Edhellond, and two weeks since they received news that the King would have to make a detour to Erech to handle a problem with bandits robbing nearby villages, before he returned to Minas Tirith.

Even though he shouldn’t be worrying, Calén couldn’t find peace of mind. His thoughts were wary and his dreams full of dark omens. Gandalf, Faramir and Eowyn noticed that he wasn’t feeling well, but Faramir had his duties as the Steward of Gondor, Gandalf has taken Aragorn’s place in the Council, and Eowyn, no matter how much she wanted to, couldn’t spend every waking moment with Calén.

The Elf rubbed his eyes as he slowly gave up on reading and placed the book on the small table beside the armchair he was sitting in. He blew out the candle and made his way to bed.

The moon broke through the clouds, shining light into the bedroom and Calén stopped before he slid into bed when he thought he saw a shape within the moonlight.

“Prongs?” he whispered as the shape grew stronger and stronger, and the stag bowed his head at Calén before it galloped out of the room and into the hallway.

Without giving it any thought, Calén ran after him.

He ran into the hallway and stopped in his tracks looking left and right in his search of Prongs, and he hurried to the left when he saw the stag appear down the hall. He followed Prongs down many hallways and halted in his step when he saw Prongs standing in front of an ajar door behind which voices were coming. Prongs nodded towards the door before he disappeared and Calén’s heart skipped a beat as he slowly approached the door, trying not to make a sound.

“It has already been arranged. I have the poison here, and once the Elf is gone all you will have to do is get close to the King. We will have the power we have always wanted.”

Calén’s left hand flew to his mouth to muffle a gasp of shock while his right hand fisted on his stomach.

“But what if they discover that he was poisoned? They will start an investigation, and one day they are bound to…”

“They will find _nothing,_ ” a male voice interrupted the voice of a young woman, and Calén had to use every bit of courage and strength he had left to stop himself from running away.

He knew it would be a stupid idea to reveal himself. He didn’t know if the two conspirators were the only ones. He didn’t even know who they were although their voices did sound familiar.

“This poison is untraceable. It will appear as though he succumbed to a fever.”

Unable to listen anymore, and feeling panic rising, Calén turned on his heel and ran down the hallway.

He needed to tell someone.

He needed to find help.

**cut**

“Are you sure you cannot remember to whom those voices belong?” Faramir asked and Calén shook his head.

He was sitting beside Eowyn on her and Faramir’s bed, and Eowyn had her right arm draped over Calén’s shoulders while she covered his hands which he clasped in his lap with her left hand.

“I know I have heard them somewhere, but I cannot remember where. I cannot make the connection.”

Even though it has been some time since Calén ran to their room and woke them up the Consort was till shaking. He was still pale and covered in cold sweat.

Gandalf, who was sitting in an armchair beside the fireplace, hummed and took a firmer hold of his staff. “Right now we should be thinking of a way to protect you,” he said.

“We can’t,” Eowyn countered, eyes glimmering with worry. “The poison is untraceable and obviously slow acting if what Calén had heard is true, so even if we check his food and drinks we will probably find nothing, and if the conspirators find out that we know then they might take drastic measures. We cannot spend every living moment with Calén. They are bound to catch him alone, and in his condition, he cannot protect himself.”

“Then we make him disappear,” Faramir said and everyone looked at him. His eyes were dark in the weak light of the candles, and the expression on his face was that of deep thought. “We make sure that Calén is brought someplace where they will not be able to hurt him.”

“I could go to Lórien, or even Rivendell!” Calén suggested breathlessly.

“You are not fit to travel such distance. The roads are still not safe enough. We would need to send men with you and someone might see you. You could be attacked by the remaining Orcs and Wargs. We cannot take that chance,” Gandalf said and Calén’s eyes filled with tears.

“Then what should we do?” he asked and looked at Faramir.

“There is a place where you would be safe,” Faramir said and Calén’s eyes widened with hope. “There is a small house that belonged to my mother in the forest by the firth of river Serni. No one but me and now you, Gandalf and Eowyn know about it. It is a two days ride with our fastest horses, but you would be safe there. The roads that lead there are old and rarely traveled by. Calén, it will take me a day to prepare supplies for you and arrange transport. Do you think that you would be alright waiting for another day?”

“I will spend the day with him,” Eowyn said before Calén could answer. “I’ll prepare his food and drinks and make sure no one enters his chambers.”

“Good. Eowyn, I would like you to go with him.” Eowyn agreed with her husband’s words without hesitation and Faramir smiled at her lovingly. “While you are in hiding, Gandalf and I will start an investigation. We will find the conspirators and take care of them.”

“What about Aragorn?” Calén asked weakly.

“We do not know who we can trust,” Gandalf answered. “Aragorn will find everything out upon his return. I think we can all agree that the only thing that matters right now is your safety and the safety of your unborn child.”

Calén nodded and licked dry lips.

“Come on, now. You need to rest,” Eowyn spoke comfortingly and Calén snorted as he fought back tears.

“I won’t be able to sleep tonight,” he whispered and trembled within Eowyn’s gentle hold.

“Stay here with Eowyn and try to get some sleep. Gandalf and I will start on preparations right away,” Faramir said and nodded at Gandalf before both of them left the room.

The moment the door closed Calén turned towards Eowyn, hugged her close and buried his face in her shoulder as he cried.

Eowyn closer her eyes as she hugged him back, brushing her right hand through Calén’s long hair. “Everything will be alright, Calén,” she whispered, although her own heart was heavy with sorrow. “Everything will be alright.”

**cut**

“Stay safe,” Faramir whispered as Eowyn pulled her hood over her head. He pulled her into a kiss and held her tight for a long moment, knowing that it might be a while before he would see her again. “I will come for you the moment it is safe to return.”

“I know. Be safe,” she whispered and kissed him quickly again before she climbed the carriage where Calén already waited for her with a hood pulled low over his face and nothing to show who it was exactly that was leaving Minas Tirith in the middle of the night.

As Eowyn took the reins from Gandalf, the Wizard covered her hands with his and looked first at Calén and then at her. “Ride fast, and stop for nothing. I will have my Eagles deliver you supplies at the end of the month if we do not solve this by that time. If you need to go to the nearby village make sure no one sees who you are, and ensure that no one follows you. The safety of the King Consort is our prime concern,” Gandalf spoke and Eowyn nodded at him.

“I will protect him with my life,” she said, and before Gandalf or Faramir could say anything, she snapped the reins and the horses broke into a quick, steady run.

“May the Valar watch over you,” Gandalf murmured and Faramir nodded. “Come, Faramir. There is a lot to do.”

“Let us start.”

**cut**

Aragorn could barely contain his excitement as the gates of Minas Tirith came into sight.

Three months of traveling and protecting various villages and small towns. Three months away from his beloved Elf.

He couldn’t wait to finally hold Calén in his arms. He couldn’t wait to map every line and curve of Calén’s body with his hands. The Elf was already in his sixth month of pregnancy so he was probably already showing, and Aragorn could hardly wait to place his hand on Calén’s stomach and feel their child move.

The moment Aragorn entered Minas Tirith though, he could tell that something was wrong. It felt as though a heavy cloud of worry and anticipation was covering the city, and Aragorn suddenly had a very bad feeling deep in his guts. Waving at his men to make their way to the stables alone, Aragorn pushed Brego into a fast gallop and all but flew up the levels of the City. He reached the gates of the Citadel in record time, and pulled Brego into a sharp stop when the door opened and Faramir and Gandalf came out to meet him.

“What is it? What happened?” he asked as he mounted off of Brego just as the two reached him.

“It is a long story, King Aragorn, and one best told in safer territories,” Gandalf spoke quickly and Aragorn’s eyes darkened with worry, as realization dawned on him.

“Where is Calénandir?” he pressed out through his teeth as Gandalf and Faramir exchanged glances. “Where is my husband?!”

**cut**

Faramir was surprised when Aragorn pulled him into a hug the moment he and Gandalf finished informing him of everything that had transpired since Aragorn left Minas Tirith.

“Thank you, my brother,” Aragorn whispered in Faramir’s ear and the younger man returned the hug, holding on just as tightly as Aragorn was holding on to him. “Thank you for protecting my family.”

“You would have done the same,” Faramir said as they parted and Aragorn clapped his Steward’s left shoulder, nodding at Faramir in confirmation.

“I would,” he said, although words weren’t necessary. “Now, how much do we know?” he looked at Gandalf and the Istari sighed.

“We have a list of suspects. They were all rumored to plot against Calén, but we have no proof. Ever since we have made Calén disappear, every single one of our suspects has been extremely careful. We didn’t manage to catch them in the act,” Faramir answered and Gandalf nodded in agreement.

Aragorn frowned and bowed his head in thought.

A moment later he raised his head and determination such as Faramir and Gandalf have never seen shone in Aragorn’s stormy gray eyes.

“Then it is time to do things differently.”

**cut**

Eowyn looked up from the stew she was making when she heard light humming coming from somewhere in the small house. She left their lunch to boil as she followed the sound of the light notes to the back porch, and found Calén sitting in a big swing upon several comfortable pillows. His head was bowed and his eyes were closed, and his hands rested on his stomach which was quite big for him being only 6 months pregnant.

She leaned against the doorway realizing he hadn’t noticed her coming out, and a small smile tugged on her lips when he started to sing.

“A song of Enchantment I sang me there,   
In a green-green wood, by waters fair,   
Just as the words came up to me   
I sang it under the wild wood tree.

Widdershins turned I, singing it low,   
Watching the wild birds come and go;   
No cloud in the deep dark blue to be seen   
Under the thick-thatched branches green.

Twilight came: silence came:   
The Planet of Evening’s silver flame;   
By darkening paths I wandered through   
Thickets trembling with drops of dew.

But the music is lost and the words are gone   
Of the song I sang as I sat alone,   
Ages and ages have fallen on me -   
On the wood and the pool and the elder tree.” (1)

Even though the song was over, Calén continued to hum the melody, and Eowyn returned into the kitchen with a smile on her face.

She was about to taste the stew when she caught sight of a rider approaching from the forest through the window facing East.

“Calén!!” she called out frantically and ran back just as Calén wiggled out of the nest he had made. “Get into the house, someone is coming!” she spoke as she led him in, and hurried to grab the sword she prepared just for this occasion, leaving it by the front door.

“Eowyn…”

“Stay inside,” she said as she opened the front door and made her way towards the rider, ready to draw her sword at any moment.

But there would be no need to.

Relief filled Eowyn’s heart when the rider lowered the hood which covered their face to reveal dark brown locks of hair, and the beautiful face of Arwen Undomiel, the Lady of Rivendell.

“Arwen!” Eowyn turned to see Calén leaning against the doorframe with relief on his face and Eowyn walked over to his side to wait beside him for the Elven maiden.

Arwen all but jumped off of her horse and hurried to Calén’s side, enveloping him into a tight, warm hug, careful of the child he was carrying.

“I was so worried, little one,” she whispered. “When Lady Galadriel contacted my father about your condition and what happened in Minas Tirith, I hurried to find you. Thank Valar, Lady Galadriel could tell me where you were.”

They parted and Calén laughed through tears of happiness as he glanced at Eowyn who was observing them with relief clear in her eyes.

“I am so happy to see you, Arwen. Come. Let’s go inside. You can tell us everything you know, since we have yet to receive any news from the White City.” They entered the room and Eowyn hurried to bring glasses of water for all three of them while Calén and Arwen settled in the small common room where Calén and Eowyn spent most of their time, especially since it was getting harder and harder for Calén to climb the stairs leading to the sleeping chambers on the upper floor.

“Thank you,” Arwen thanked Eowyn and the woman of Rohan smiled at her before she took a seat in an armchair while Arwen and Calén occupied the big, comfortable couch.

“Tell us, Arwen - what has Lady Galadriel told you?” Calén asked, obviously excited to receive news.

“There is not much to say,” Arwen said. “Last I know Aragorn was on his way back to Minas Tirith. He and his men must have reached it by now.” At her words, happiness and relief covered Calén’s features, revealing the real amounts of worry he has been hiding from Eowyn for the past months. “As for the situation in Minas Tirith, I have no news. Lady Galadriel said she would inform Gandalf that I am here with you. Hopefully everything would be alright before the first rain of Autumn, for you will not be able to travel later than that without endangering both yourself and your child.”

“I am well aware of that,” Calén said, but despite the sadness in his eyes he gave his best to smile. “But right now that matters little. As long as Aragorn, Gandalf and Faramir manage to make sure that my son would be safe upon our return to Minas Tirith, I do not care if he will be born in the city or here.”

Arwen and Eowyn exchanged a glance before Eowyn stood up and smiled at Calén.

“You are right,” Eowyn said and Calén’s expression brightened for the smallest of bits. “Now, why don’t you and Lady Arwen spend some time alone together while I prepare the third bedroom, and then we can all have lunch?”

“That sounds wonderful,” Calén agreed and Eowyn disappeared up the stairs.

“Be honest with me, Calénandir,” Arwen spoke before Calén could say anything and looked deep into his eyes. She took his hands in hers and gave them a reassuring squeeze. “Tell me - how are you?”

Calén licked his lips and his bottom lip quivered as his eyes filled with tears. “I am afraid, Arwen,” he spoke in a wavering voice. “I am afraid that something will happen to Aragorn. I know that Gandalf and Faramir are with him and that they will help him to the best of their abilities, but I will not know rest until I am with him again. I will not know peace until I hold him again.” Tears trailed down his cheeks and Arwen’s heart clenched in sorrow. “I want my son to know his father, Arwen. I do not wish to raise him alone, because if I lose Aragorn my heart will break, and I…”

“Hush!” The Lady of Rivendell pulled Calén into her arms and he hugged her back tightly. Arwen closed her eyes as she rocked them from side to side. “Everything will be alright, little one. Everything will be alright.”

**cut**

Aragorn looked up when he heard movement coming from a dark corner of his and Calén’s chambers and frowned when several candles caught fire, revealing Gandalf and Faramir who were looking at him with amused expressions.

Aragorn raised an eyebrow at them as he took off his dirty cloak on his way to a basin full of water.

“So I do believe that it is safe to say that we know the name of the King’s secret spy,” Gandalf drawled in amusement and Faramir snorted while Aragorn washed his face.

“The people know the King, not the Ranger,” Aragorn answered as he took off his leather shirt and old, time-worn undershirt, hurriedly washing his hands before he walked over to a chest in the corner of the room and took some clean clothes from it.

“Never the less it was a great risk,” Faramir said, although his tone suggested that he was rather impressed.

In a little over a month Aragorn has managed to do what Faramir and Gandalf have been struggling with for months. Aragorn had gathered enough evidence to condemn every single one of their suspects for treason against the Royal Family. Some of them were already in the dungeons awaiting trial, and by the look on Aragorn’s face the others would join them before the last light of the following day.

“I shall send word to our trusted soldiers. It will be a busy day tomorrow,” Gandalf said and left the room, leaving Aragorn and Faramir alone.

“Are you well?” the Steward of Gondor asked and Aragorn sighed gravely as he took a seat in the armchair by the fireplace.

“I am not,” he answered and Faramir took a seat in the chair facing Aragorn. “I need him back, Faramir. I need him in my arms. I need to make sure that he is alive and well - that our child is alive and well.”

“I may not know exactly how you feel, my King, but I miss Eowyn just as you miss Calén. The difference is that Eowyn is not with child...” Faramir hesitated before laughing quietly and shaking his head. “At least to my knowledge,” the young Steward added in dry amusement and Aragorn snorted. “What I want to say is that there is nothing we can do before we make sure that Minas Tirith is clear of conspirators against the Crown. We must trust them that they are safe.”

Aragorn’s lips tilted into a small smile and he nodded. “You are right. Calén is much stronger than he looks and he will do his best to keep himself and our child healthy.” Faramir nodded and both stood up at the same time with the exact same thought in mind.

_Tomorrow we finish this._

**cut**

Cold rain and harsh winds raged against the small house by the firth of the Serni River. Inside it, Calén, Arwen and Eowyn sat in front of the fireplace, comfortably nestled among pillows and blankets. The fire crackled playfully and the air smelled of mint tea and home made bread.

Calén was resting between Arwen and Eowyn with his head in Eowyn’s lap and feet propped on Arwen’s. Arwen was reading a book for them while Calén and Eowyn listened with Eowyn brushing her fingers through Calén’s soft, raven locks.

Arwen stopped reading when Eowyn gently tapped her shoulder and nodded towards Calén. His breathing was steady and deep indicating that he has fallen asleep. Arwen smiled at him lovingly and closed the book after she marked the page.

“We will not be able to return before he gives birth, am I right?” Eowyn asked quietly as not to awaken Calén. Arwen sighed as she gazed into the fire under Eowyn’s watchful gaze.

“I do not think we will,” she answered and Eowyn frowned.

“The weather might still get better,” she said hopefully and Arwen smiled at her.

“It would be too great of a risk. The weather could worsen again and then we would probably be trapped in the middle of the road with no shelter. Even if we found out that Minas Tirith was safe again, we would put Calén and his child at great risk.” Eowyn nodded in understanding feeling Arwen’s eyes on her face. “You miss him,” Arwen concluded and Eowyn smiled wistfully.

“I do,” Eowyn said, looking at Arwen when the older woman gently touched her shoulder.

“You will see him soon,” Arwen comforted Eowyn, and the Lady of Rohan smiled at her gratefully.

“I know.”

**cut**

Eowyn sighed as she put the last piece of clothing into the wooden basket with all the other freshly washed clothes. She wiped her forehead with her right forearm as she straightened and turned around. Just as she was about to pick up the basket she caught sight of someone coming on the horizon.

Her heart sunk into her stomach and her eyes widened when she saw the flags of Minas Tirith, the crest of the King of Gondor and Arnor. Riding in front of a carriage on a beautiful white steed was the man she had missed more than she had ever missed anyone.

Her heart beat as though it would fly right out of her chest as she took a step forward only to break into a run.

“Faramir!!” she cried out and her husband stopped his horse before he jumped off of it. She ran into his arms and he spun them in circles before she fisted her hands in his hair and kissed him with everything she had.

She laughed with all her heart as he littered kisses over her face, and when he let go of her she saw none other than Aragorn climbing out of the carriage. With a bright smile on her face she bowed at her King, only to be startled when Aragorn pulled her into a warm hug.

“Thank you,” he whispered in her ear before he let her go, and Eowyn’s smile grew even bigger if at all possible. “Thank you for looking after my husband.”

“It was my honor,” she said as she joined Faramir’s side and he wrapped his right arm around her waist. “Come, my King. I have no doubt that you are dying to see him.”

Aragorn nodded as he returned to the carriage and Eowyn climbed Faramir’s horse with him.

They stopped right in front of the house to the surprise of Arwen who came out to see if Eowyn needed help with their clothes. Her eyes widened with joy when Aragorn rushed to envelop her into a hug while Eowyn and Faramir watched from the sidelines.

“Gandalf told me that Lady Galadriel had contacted you. Everything is alright now. Thank you,” Aragorn whispered to Arwen as he hugged her tightly, and she smiled at him when they parted, mischievousness glowing in her starlight-kissed, blue eyes.

“Come,” she spoke warmly and took his right hand in her left, leading him into the house. She stopped in the living room and nodded towards the doorway leading to the back porch.

Aragorn licked his lips as he took a hesitant step forward. He slowly walked onto the porch and let go of the breath he was unconsciously holding when his eyes settled on the beautiful sight of his beloved Consort sleeping on a swing upon several pillows, dressed in warm, comfortable clothes which did nothing to hide his grown stomach. Aragorn fell to his knees beside Calén, hands hovering over the slight form as though Aragorn was afraid that if he dared touch the Elf he would turn into elusive smoke and disappear from Aragorn’s sight.

Finally, after what seemed like a small eternity, Aragorn placed his left hand on Calén’s stomach and his right on the Elf’s forehead brushing raven tresses away from that beautiful face.

A short, breathless, wavering laugh escaped Aragorn when he felt the baby kick under his hand and Calén gasped as he startled awake.

Drowsy emeralds met tearful gray orbs.

Calén’s eyes widened when his mind cleared of sleepiness. “Is this - Is this a dream?” he breathed out as he slowly straightened and Aragorn shook his head.

“Only if we are both dreaming,” he spoke in a strained, broken voice and in the next moment Calén found himself in his husband’s loving embrace. His hands fisted on Aragorn’s back holding on for dear life as they cried together tears of relief.

“Is it over?” Calén asked as he moved back to look in Aragorn’s eyes.

In turn, Aragorn gently cupped the Elf’s face and kissed him with all the love he had kept in his heart. “It is over, neenaramin,” he whispered and Calén felt like he could finally breathe again. “It is over.”

**cut**

_Fifth year of the Fourth Age_

**cut**

“Elessar! Be nice to your sister!” Calén called out when he saw his eldest run around the Courtyard of the Citadel with his one year younger sister’s favorite doll in his hand. The Elf smiled when he felt two strong hands on his shoulders and a moment later a kiss was placed upon his cheek. “You have finished early?”

A low laugh sent a shiver down Calén’s spine and Aragorn took a seat beside the Elf on the comfortable bench placed in the Courtyard just for Calén.

“I did everything they needed me to do and left the rest in Faramir’s capable hands,” as Aragorn spoke he placed his left hand on Calén’s growing stomach, smiling when he felt their unborn child kick.

“Ada!!”

Before Aragorn and Calén could continue their conversation their firstborn son, Elessar and their four years old daughter Neenuvar ran over to them. Aragorn laughed as he scooped them up into his arms and kissed their chubby little cheeks while they hugged him tightly around his neck.

“What have you two been up to?” Aragorn asked as he let them down and took a seat beside Calén again.

“Trouble, as always,” Calén drawled teasingly and Aragorn chuckled while their children protested indignantly speaking at the same time, each one trying to justify whatever innocent, childish mishap they’ve caused. It all ended in another game of chase and Aragorn sighed as he leaned back and wrapped his right arm around Calén’s shoulders.

His beloved husband leaned into him, resting his head on Aragorn’s shoulder and sighing in content.

It was the Fifth year of the Fourth Age and peace ruled Middle-Earth. King Aragorn and his Consort Calénandir ruled the United Kingdoms with wisdom and kindness. Their children grew surrounded by people that loved them.

They have suffered and they’ve fought.

They’ve lost and they’ve won.

Their lives were not perfect, but they were as perfect as human lives could be.

And they wouldn’t have it any other way.

**cut**

(1) Walter de la Mare, ‘A song of Enchantment’

**cut**

**I do hope you’ve liked this!!!!**

**In all honestly, I would love it if someone would make a multi-chapter story out of this. I really don’t have the time to and I would love to read this with a deeper plot.**

**If anyone has the affinity to fulfill this little wish of mine, please tell me!!**

**All my love,**  
Ms. Yuki  



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